


Willow-Violet: Year Four

by TheFineArtOfBoredom



Series: Willow-Violet Potter [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFineArtOfBoredom/pseuds/TheFineArtOfBoredom
Summary: After witnessing the murder of her best friend and being forced to join a gang of raving blood-purists, Willow is now facing the beginning of one of her hardest challenges yet - playing bad as best as she can to keep the good alive.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Willow-Violet Potter/Fred Weasley, Willow-Violet Potter/George Weasley
Series: Willow-Violet Potter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025233





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’d just like any readers dropping by to be aware that this book has still not been completed. There are still another ten chapters at least needing to be written, as I underestimated how much time I would need to write this.
> 
> What does this mean? This means that, as I finish the book, some chapters may be edited or changed. Likely this will not happen as I am happy with the majority of how this book has been written, but it’s just an fyi in case of that situation. Anyway, happy reading guys! Remember, two chapters posted every Friday and Tuesday!!

Sunday morning, six o’clock, and Willow was sat in the dining room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was an old building, hidden between the walls of numbers eleven and thirteen by magic; the Muggles in the surrounding area of Islington too unobservant to care that they seemed to be missing a building in the middle of their street. For many generations, the building had been the home of the notorious Pureblooded Black family, although as of recent, the building had been left deserted, with the exception, of course, of the Black family’s old house-elf, Kreacher.

Barely thirty-six hours had passed since the Wizarding World had flipped on its head; two days ago, all had been joyous and safe, now, all was dark and dangerous, although most refused to see it in such a way.

Cedric Diggory, born in the year nineteen seventy-seven, died aged seventeen on the twenty-fourth of June, nineteen ninety-five; murdered by order of Tom Riddle, more infamously known as the Dark Lord Voldemort – his death witnessed by the Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter, along with Cedric’s best friend of many years, Willow-Violet Potter.

Sighing deeply as she tried to ignore the tears beginning to form in her closed eyes, Willow relived the night in her mind for what seemed to be the millionth time over; graveyard, murder, marked, duel, disappearance, all in the span of barely an hour.

“It’s alright,” she heard Sirius speak softly from her right as he held onto her hand, the most comfort he could offer at that moment. To Willow’s left sat her father, Remus, who was also holding onto Willow’s other hand, again, the only comfort he could offer at that moment.

With a deep breath and a tense swallow, Willow finally opened her eyes, quickly glancing around the room, to remind herself, who was sitting around the table; beside Remus sat a man who worked in the Ministry by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt, beside Sirius sat one of Emma’s old school friends by the name of Merula. At each end of the table sat Arthur and Bill, and directly across from Willow sat former Auror Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, his left sided by Tonks and werewolf Chiara, and his right sided by Animagus Talbott Winger and their friend Skye Parkin.

“Well, get on with it,” Moody growled impatiently.

“Give her the time she needs,” Remus ordered, squeezing Willow’s hand ever so slightly. She took in another deep breath and looked around the table once more, before looking up slightly at Sirius. He nodded, a prompt for her to begin, her head then turning away and her eyes focusing on a dent in the polished, black marble dining table.

“He took me while I was on the way to get my wand from the castle –“ she began quietly.

“Who?” Moody demanded.

“Who the fuck do you think?” Willow said; he knew who it was as Sirius had explained the night before when they had first arrived at the house. She did not understand why she wanted her to repeat his name.

“I woke up in the graveyard a few hours later,” Willow continued on after having heard a rather frustrated sigh escape from what remained of Moody’s nose. “Harry arrived via the Cup not long after with –“ she stopped suddenly, Cedric’s voice echoing in her ear; _is this supposed to be part of the task?_ And then she heard the other voice, _his_ voice, muttering; _kill the spare_.

“Willow, do you want to stop for a minute? Go outside –“ Remus offered, seeing the tears fall down his daughter’s cheeks; it pained him deeply to have to see such a thing. Why did this all have to happen? And why did it have to happen to her?

“No,” Willow refused, sniffling as she took her hand from Sirius for a moment, to wipe the tears from her face. “Crouch killed him,” she said. “You-Know-Who told him to, and then he –“ she stopped again, and, with a sigh, she took her hand from Remus’, laid her arm on the table and pulled up her sleeve to reveal the once black, now vivid red skull-and-snake mark on her forearm. From the corner of her eye, she saw Merula’s hands clasp over her mouth in shock, while from across the table, Tonks gave her a sympathetic look. After a few seconds had passed, and everyone had had a good look at the mark, Willow pushed her sleeve back again, to cover the horrid mark, and let her arm fall back to her side, where she took a hold of one of Remus’ hands again.

“He then duelled Harry – and there was a Priori Incantatem – and then the people started to come out of his wand and they told us to go, so we did,” Willow finished explaining. She did not feel at all like going into complete detail about everything; she didn’t want to break down completely in a room filled almost completely with strangers.

“Is that it, then?” Moody questioned, quite obviously unsatisfied with Willow’s lack of detail presented in her retelling. Willow did not answer; Moody sighed. “Go, then.”

“So that’s all you want me for then?” Willow said, brows furrowing. Surely, she should be allowed to stay and be part of the Order; she could relay valuable information after all, when she felt it safe enough, of course.

“We can’t have a child –“

“I’m not a fucking child!” She couldn’t believe it, the use of the word ‘child’. Two days prior, perhaps, before everything had happened, perhaps she may have accepted the use of such a word, such a meaning, but after everything she’d had to witness, everything she’d had to experience in that hour in the graveyard, she was far from being a ‘child’.

“Remus –“

“Let her stay, Alastor,” Remus demanded, staring quite icily at the man; if this had been any normal situation, Remus would have likely agreed to keep Willow out of the Order, but considering she had not only witnessed the return of perhaps the darkest wizard to exist, but had become one of his followers – due to no fault of her own; a necessary move on her part – there was good that could come from her; if she felt she could tell, of course, some of the secrets she’d soon discover on that side.

“Fine. She might be useful to us –“ Moody concluded, crossing his arms.

“If you intend to use me –“ Willow interrupted, already seeing where this was going.

“Yes, I do –“

“That’s not what I’m here for,” Willow spoke fiercely. “I’m not a toy you can pull out and play with whenever you fucking feel like it; I’m not being used for whatever dirty work you want to do, so get that idea out of your head. If I’ve got something to say, I’ll tell, do you understand?”

Finally deciding to look up from the table, she could see that Moody was severely offended by what she had said; he was not expecting to be talked to in such a way by someone so young, and Willow could see he was becoming increasingly agitated by her lack of respect towards him, but she did not care. She would not pay him respect until he did the same to her.

“Did Lucius never teach you to respect those older than yourself?” Moody inquired quite snarkily, standing up from the table, an attempt to appear intimidating towards the girl sat across from him. Both Remus and Sirius were about to open their mouths to say something, whilst Tonks began to make an attempt to sit Moody back down, but all were quietened as Willow, now reaching a decent height of five foot nine, stood up herself a slight smirk having formed on her face.

“Actually, on the contrary, he taught me that respect should only be given to those who are deserving of such a thing, and at the current moment, you’ve showed no signs hinting towards you deserving any inkling of respect from me,” Willow said, staring the man in the eyes. He was absolutely livid. “Now, if you excuse me, I shall be taking my leave. If anyone needs me, and I insist none of you do, I shall be upstairs in my most recent place of residence.”

And with that, Willow left the table, glaring as she walked past Moody to get through the door to make her way up the three flights of stairs necessary to reach her bedroom, letting everyone downstairs below know when she arrived by slamming the door loud enough for them to hear.

“I’ll come back later,” Moody huffed, passing through the door himself before making his way out the front, his wooden leg echoing a heavy clunking noise as he walked. It did not take long, after Moody left, for the others to clear off, with the exception of Bill, Arthur and Tonks, who decided now would be a good time to talk to Remus, feeling a little less anxious about his presence; even though it had been years since she’d run into him in the Ministry, she still harboured quite the number of feelings for him.

“Impressive,” she said with a smile, sitting on the seat Kingsley had previously occupied.

“What?” Remus asked politely, forcing himself to make eye contact with the woman sitting beside him; he didn’t want to appear rude, especially to her. He hadn’t thought much of her whilst he was still married to Sirius but considering they had divorced he felt a little more at liberty to think of others, specifically her. He didn’t necessarily like to admit, but he’d been quite taken with her the first time they had run into one another.

“Her – Willow, I mean. I could’ve never done something like that at her age, speak to someone like that I mean. Is she usually like that?”

Remus nodded, a smile on his face. “She takes after her mother.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t try to hit him,” Sirius piped up, moving to sit beside Remus. “You know, she hit Voldemort.”

“She did what?” Remus questioned. He was inclined to not believe Sirius, although knowing Willow’s quite fierce personality, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had been so reckless to do that.

“Your joking,” Tonks assumed, but Sirius only sat there and smiled. “For real? She did that?” she said, bewildered.

Sirius nodded proudly. “Spit in his face too. Not to worry though, Re, I told her not to do it again – not for the moment, anyway.”

“Why?” Remus said, not knowing what else to say.

“She was pissed off with him, simple as that.”

Remus could only shake his head, causing a slight laugh to leave Tonks.

“What?” Remus inquired with a smile.

“You gotta admit, that’s pretty cool. I mean, really, think about it, you ever heard of someone that’s managed to a) hit him, b) spit in his face and c) live to tell the tale? And to top it all off she’s –“

“Fourteen,” Remus said, seeing the thoughtful look on Tonks’ face. “I guess that is ‘pretty cool’, as you put it.”

Sirius smiled at the scene unfolding in front of him; the two of them were looking quite intently, in his own opinion, at one another, both smiling brightly. He could have screamed when Molly called from the basement kitchen that she needed help with breakfast, Tonks happily excusing herself from the table and running downstairs. At that, Remus turned to see Sirius smiling so sheepishly at him, and a look of mild concern crossed over his face.

“When’s the wedding?” Sirius asked cheekily.

“Sirius –“ Remus tried to begin.

“You two would work well together,” Sirius said. “What, are you worried about, me?”

“I –“

“Because if you are, the only thing you could do to make me unhappy is if you _didn’t_ try and snatch her up. You need to have someone around at the end of the day, in case I can’t be there, of course, and she’s a nice person, very understanding –“

“Unlike _you_ ,” Remus said, an equal level of humour and seriousness in his insinuation.

“I’m working on it,” Sirius said, exasperated as the two men stood from the table. “Anyway, point still stands – she’s good for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am not yet fluent in French; the translations are from Google, but at least you'll all get the idea.

She wasn’t aware of how many hours had passed when she decided to wander downstairs again; whether it had been one or three, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it had been significantly quieter, which let her know that, to her luck, there were less people in the house now.

She couldn’t find anyone as she passed down the different levels of the house until she went down to the basement kitchen; Molly was in the process of bringing breakfast out onto the large wooden dining table, which was already inhabited by Remus and Sirius, who were talking animatedly to Tonks, along with Bill, Charlie, Arthur and Emma.

“Ah! Perfect! Right on time,” Molly said with a welcoming smile, seeing Willow standing in the doorway. “I was just about to come upstairs to get you.” Having then greeted her with a warm hug, she led Willow to the side of the table where Remus and Sirius were sitting together, the two now having turned their attention to the girl.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked as Sirius moved one seat down, so that Willow could sit between them as she had done upstairs in the dining room an hour or so beforehand.

“Like shit,” Willow replied honestly, crossing her arms and sitting in the now free chair in between her fathers, “but a bit better –“

Quite suddenly, a loud clunking sound echoed from the stairs and within seconds, Moody was standing in the doorway.

“I retract that statement,” Willow muttered, making to stand but quickly being dragged down again by Sirius.

“Reste juste pour manger quelque chose. Tu peux aller après,” he said. Willow looked at him for a moment, almost inquisitively. She questioned, for a second, how he would have known the language and known that Willow would be able to understand it, before remembering his family’s previous status, and reminding herself that he knew that she had been raised by the Malfoys for the first eleven years of her life.

“Je vais rester dix minutes, pas plus,” Willow said, sighing as she, quite aggressively, eyed off Moody as he sat down across from her.

“What?” the man questioned, wondering why the girl was glaring at him so. She was about to reply, likely something not so pleasing, but Molly had sat down at the table and motioned for everyone to start eating.

“What would you like?” Remus asked, turning to look at Willow, knowing quite well that she would likely refuse to fill her own plate; if he and Sirius weren’t there to watch her, he knew she would likely starve herself, sooner or later.

“Je voudrais partir,” Willow replied, brows still furrowed and arms still crossed, although her gaze was no longer on Moody. She almost smiled when, beside her, Sirius almost spit his drink out, having been the only one to understand what she had said.

“What’s so funny?” Remus questioned. “What did she say?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” Sirius spoke quickly, coughing slightly before turning his attention to Willow, a fairly serious looking expression on his face. “One thing, that’s all we’re expecting you to eat, alright?”

“Bien. Un morceau de pain grillé et puis je pars,” Willow mumbled before Sirius reached across the table to grab a piece of buttered toast for the girl. Slowly, she began to eat it, something she did not feel like doing in the slightest; she would have preferred to watch as everyone ate and leave herself to starve.

“So, what happened the other night?” Moody said as soon as Willow had finished eating.

“I told you this morning,” Willow growled warningly, glaring at the man across from her again. “You’ve got no care in the world do you?”

“For what?”

“All you give a shit about is what happened in the most minute detail –“

“Because we need it!” Moody shouted suddenly, rising from the table.

“And my best friend just fucking died! I need time to heal from that!” Willow shouted back, twice as loud as she, too, rose from the table before storming up the stairs, muttering a near silent, “fuck you,” as she passed the ex-Auror. The sound of a door slamming was the last thing those down in the basement kitchen heard.

“Go,” Remus ordered, glaring coldly at Alastor. He was willing and able to put up with his callousness towards Willow earlier in the morning, but he had over stepped the mark this time, especially considering, for perhaps the first time ever, Willow had willingly left her own isolation to be around others in a time where that was one of the last things she wanted to do. Now, of course, Alastor had completely ruined that, and the chance of Willow doing something detrimental to her health had likely made for a large incline.

“She needs to tell us –“

“She needs time!” Remus shouted quite unexpectedly, pushing his chair back as he stood, the sound so violent that it caused Tonks to jump slightly in her chair. “For fuck sake, Alastor!” He was starting to run his hands through his hair, and at this, Sirius stood up slowly himself, to be there to take Remus from the situation if necessary.

“You tell us what happened then –“

“I know just as much as you do!” Remus had now moved from the table, having begun pacing. “And yet, somehow, I and everyone else here can have the decency to not try and pry into something she’s not willing to talk about yet!”

Refusing to argue with the man anymore, Moody left the room and made his way upstairs once more. It didn’t take long for the Weasleys in the room to move upstairs too, realising quickly that the remainder of breakfast would be better spent in the dining room, which left Tonks and Sirius in the room with Remus, who was pacing much faster than before and beginning to pull on his hair. Sirius, having noticed this, was quick to take Remus’ hands from his hair and sit him down at the head of the table. He left as tears began to edge their way out of Remus’ eyes, to get him a glass of water, during which time Tonks pulled a chair up beside Remus, to sit with him as he began to sob.

Cautiously, she took a hold of one of his hands to try and comfort him; he flinched at first, not used to such contact from someone that wasn’t either Sirius or Willow, but soon relaxed in her touch. Sirius, upon seeing this, returned with the glass before quickly leaving to the kitchen again, thinking this the opportune moment to see how Tonks would manage a situation as this.

“Sorry,” Remus apologised quietly, turning to look at her briefly.

“It’s alright,” Tonks assured, squeezing his hand slightly. “It’s about time he got told off for something, and you two are both in your right to be upset with him, you and Willow, I mean.”

“It’s difficult,” Remus said, a sigh escaping him as he wiped tears from his face. “It’s fucking difficult.” Tonks did not respond, only looked at the man, a sympathetic look on her face; she did not want to speak – she wanted him to keep talking, and he must have caught on, because she soon found herself listening in to all his stresses over the past forty-eight hours.

“Sometimes I really hate being a parent,” he admitted. “Because I’m supposed to protect her, keep her safe – Harry too – but I can’t do that, can I? If I try to keep her safe – if I try to keep Harry safe – they’ll get hurt and if I don’t the same will happen.”

“Bit of a double-edged sword, isn’t it?” Tonks said, Remus nodding as she did. “I’m sure she’ll be alright though. I mean, I’ve known her for barely an hour and she’s already proven she can stand on her own two feet quite well.”

“That’s perhaps the only saving grace of this situation.” Remus looked over at Tonks but did not reach her eye. “She’s always been like that, well, that I’ve seen anyway. I think she learnt early on that she needs to be able to defend herself; she wanted to go to a Muggle school for a bit when she was six or so – course the Malfoys let her for a year or two – she used to come home crying sometimes though – kids making fun of her for not having any parents and such. And when she was eleven something happened to her at school – I won’t say what because that’s her thing to say if she wants to or not – but by the time she was twelve she was quite willing and able to stand up for herself and others if they needed it. Very strong-willed, she is, like her mother was.”

“So I’ve seen,” Tonks said with a smile, seeing the meagre smile forming on Remus’ face. “What are you thinking about?” she asked curiously. Whatever it was, it must have been a good thought.

“The first time she got into a bit of a fight with someone – Willow I mean,” Remus answered, a proud smirk forming on his face. “Her second year – girl called Pansy was having a go at a friend of Willow’s – Lovegood’s daughter I believe it was – she wasn’t too impressed. If I remember correctly she managed to break her wrist, Pansy’s, I mean.”

“She get in trouble for that?”

“Course she did. Severus gave the two of them a month’s worth of detention. She couldn’t care less though, of course –“

“Remus, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Molly began, appearing in the doorway; not one person had heard her come down the stairs. She was breathing as though she was trying to keep herself calm, and her expression was one of clear worry. Remus, quite immediately, knew that this had do to with Willow.

“Is she alright?” Remus questioned, letting go of Tonks’ hand as he hastily stood up in a bit of a panic.

“She’s gone,” Molly admitted on the verge of tears; she too was greatly worried for Willow’s safety. “I went upstairs to bring her something more to eat and she wasn’t in her room so I looked in the other rooms, every single one, I couldn’t find her.”

“Remus –“ Tonks started, rising from her own chair to be nearer to the man as, once again, he had begun feverishly pacing, his hands automatically reaching for his hair and his eyes darting wildly around the place.

“You’re sure she’s not here?” Remus inquired as Sirius entered the room from the kitchen, deciding it now best if he was around too. He was quick to make his way over to Remus and take the man in his arms, to keep him somewhat calm.

Molly did not answer, instead beginning to cry, to which Tonks was quick to take the woman up the stairs, feeling it best if she comforted the distressed mother in a different place to where Sirius was caring for Remus. She felt as though it was her fault, Molly, for the girl having run away. Perhaps if she had been quicker to see her, to check on her, make sure she was alright; perhaps if she had done such a thing, they wouldn’t be in their current situation.

“I can go out and find her,” Sirius spoke quietly to Remus, who was beginning to shake slightly; he was still holding Remus in a tight embrace, unwilling to let the man go for fear of him hurting himself in some way.

“Sirius –“

“I’ll find her within the hour, maybe two. I’m quite good at tracking as a dog, after all –“

“But what if –?”

“But nothing,” Sirius said. “I’ll find her and get her home in the same way she left the house, alright? And I can guarantee she likely hasn’t run off too far. She’s not well-versed in the streets of London, and, after all, how far can she get without being noticed? Wolves aren’t common in England, are they?”


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed that Sirius had underestimated Willow’s knowledge of London, because she had managed to travel all the way from Islington down to Hyde Park, in her Animagus form. Such a thing came as no surprise to her though; she was in London every weekend, at one point during her childhood, buying books with Lucius or Narcissa for reading or just for the general family day out every now and then.

She quickly found herself laying underneath a tree by the Serpentine, yet she stayed in her Animagus form to protect her identity from others as best as she could; she was much more wary about who was around and watching her, especially after this whole Voldemort ordeal.

For the first time since Cedric’s passing, Willow found herself almost completely at peace with her surroundings, as she watched the birds in the lake. She found the swans particularly calming to watch, their grace and elegance as they floated on the water outshining that of the geese and the gulls; she did have to laugh though when one of the swans chased a small child that was trying to feed the other birds, apparently unhappy about its lack of food-receiving.

The swans also strongly reminded her of the ones the Malfoys owned. They, though, also had black swans, which had to be imported as they were only found in Australia. She could remember the first time she had seen them – she was, at most, only four or five when they had introduced the black swans to the white ones – and the first time she had laid eyes on them she was quite excited; she had never known before then that other swans existed. They weren’t the nicest of birds though, as when she had fallen into the lake at the age of seven the lot of them, with the exception of one or two, decided she would make for a tasty treat and had decided to peck quite feverishly at her.

She supposed now, looking back on the occasion, that they had just been mad that someone had invaded their territory, although she still couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards those swans.

A few short miles away, back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had just exited the house and had begun walking down the street. He needed to, for a minute or so, think about where Willow may have wandered off to. The only place he could possibly think of was Hyde Park, considering she quite enjoyed the area, although at the same time he doubted she could be in such a place, considering just how far away it was. He decided, ultimately, that he would look around the local area first, and, if he found no sign of Willow, he would make his way down to the park. Sure enough, after a good half hour of thorough searching, he found himself spending over an hour walking down to Hyde Park.

He turned human once more just outside the perimeter, before entering the park and quickly making his way towards the lake, eyes darting every which way, looking out for either a tall, red-haired girl or a large, red-coloured wolf. Upon reaching the lake, he found still no sign of her, and was about ready to resign and return to Grimmauld Place with the news, until he heard someone, a man, shouting and the sound of a canine growling quite loudly.

Turning around, Sirius saw, by one of the trees, an official looking man trying to take control of a suspiciously familiar looking, now leashed, canine.

“Excuse me, sir?” Sirius began as he approached the scene with great haste. “What do you think you’re doing?” The man was gesturing wildly at both the official and the canine, who had now turned its attention to Sirius, tail wagging excitedly. He had managed to find Willow alright, and he was quite thankful he had found her in time. He might have had to look in the local animal shelters otherwise.

“Got a report about a stray dog, suh. Jus’ doin’ my job’s all,” the official man explained, trying to pull Willow away from where she sat, tail still furiously wagging. She did not move an inch.

“She’s not a stray, for god sake, she’s my daugh–” Sirius began to shout, coming to a quick halt to stop himself revealing the fact that Willow was _not_ just a wolf. “She’s my dog,” he corrected himself, kneeling down and removing the leash from Willow’s neck, who was now wagging her tail even more furiously, if such a thing was possible.

“Come on,” Sirius sighed, walking off and signalling for Willow to follow, not having bothered to wait for an apology from the man. They were halfway home when Willow’s tail finally stopped wagging, instead dropping still and hiding between her back legs; she had finally realised the severity of the situation and was more than likely about to be faced with a little more than a bit of fury.

It was closing in on midday by the time they arrived home, and Sirius was ready to enter, although stopped when he turned to see Willow, now human again, sitting on one of the steps, a lit cigarette in her mouth.

“Where in the world –?“ he began, quite bewildered as he sat down on the step beside her.

“Stole it from your room this morning. Sorry,” Willow apologised, handing the still smoking cigarette to Sirius, of which he promptly inhaled before returning to his daughter.

“Don’t tell Remus about that then,” Sirius warned. “And don’t make it a habit. Those things’ll kill you if you have to many.”

“I won’t,” Willow said with a relieved sigh. She would have thought by now that she would have been shouted at, especially for doing such a thing as she was now, although, it was quite evident, that none of these things were likely to happen any time soon. “I miss them,” Willow then said, leaning her head against the railing.

“Who?” Sirius asked, sighing himself as he too rested his head against the other railing, taking his own cigarette from the small box he carried in the pocket of his jeans and lighting it.

“Harry,” Willow answered with an exhale of smoke. “And the twins,” she continued, crushing the cigarette on the concrete to put it out. “Wish they didn’t have to stay at school.”

“There’ll be here soon enough,” Sirius assured, inhaling and exhaling with another sigh. “I worry about him.”

“Harry?”

“Yes.” Sirius sat up a slight bit more, inhaling and exhaling again as he looked over at Willow. “I worry a bit, about how he’s having to deal with this load of shit.”

“He’d fare a right lot better than me,” Willow spoke honestly. “Yeah, alright, he saw someone die and he’s been traumatised by a nose-less sod, but he hasn’t lost his best mate like I have. He’s a lot better at dealing with shit anyway. Here I am sulking and starving myself –“

“I’d argue that you’re a lot better at working through things,” Sirius said, now crushing his own cigarette against the concrete. “The starving, not so much, of course, but you’re actually a bit more willing to let your emotions out while he keeps them all to himself, and that’s never a good thing.”

Willow hummed in response. Perhaps Sirius was right. She hadn’t thought about such a thing too much, but now as she began to do such a thing, she too started to greatly worry about how Harry was handling all of this. Her only comfort, in this situation, was knowing that Ron and Hermione were there to keep him somewhat alright.

“How many days –“

“Five. But they won’t be here until the second of July, so it’ll be seven before we see them again,” Sirius said, knowing exactly what Willow was asking. “I wrote up a calendar – figured crossing the days off until I see him again would be helpful.”

“I just need him,” Willow spoke tearfully. She was thinking, quite clearly, of George. She hadn’t paid much attention to how much she had been missing him over the last day, and how much she needed him there. He was, perhaps, the only person who was able to keep her at a fairly stable level, one where she could actually function like a relatively normal human being.

“Which one?” Sirius asked, although having a clear suspicion as to who she was talking about.

“George,” Willow said, sitting up slightly and wiping away a tear that fell from her eyes.

“He’s good, that one,” Sirius complimented. “Absolutely distraught when you went missing.”

“Really?”

“Mm. Blamed himself for it too, poor thing. You know, it’s a wonder why you’re with the other one –“

“I know,” Willow said, cutting Sirius off quickly. “I would like to be with him, and I know already he wants me, I just – I don’t want to hurt anyone in the process.” Her mind wandered to Fred, imagining what he’d say or do if she ever dared to speak of her feelings for George, and her strengthening decline in feelings for him. He’d likely never want to see her again, and that’s not something Willow ever wanted; she still loved Fred, of course, but she loved him the same way she had loved Cedric, or how she loved Ron and Ginny and Draco.

“You’ll have to, sooner or later,” Sirius stated. “Wouldn’t want you spending the rest of your life feeling unhappy with yourself.”

“Wouldn’t want George feeling the same way either,” Willow admitted with a sigh. “We should probably head back inside soon.”

“Probably.”

But they did not go back inside anytime soon. Instead they continued to sit on the steps in silence, listening to the cars go by, hearing snippets of conversation from those walking and passing by, looking up at the blue sky above them, breathing in the smell of city air.

It was a nice break from the world inside the house; a break from the stress and the rush and the raised voices and the reminder that the world around them was getting progressively darker and darker as each hour passed by. Out here, on the steps, it was calm and normal; no one was worried, no one was having to plan for a war. Of course, there were people stressed, like one man that passed the two who was yelling angrily into what looked almost like a brick that was being held up to his ear – Sirius then explaining to Willow that this thing was something called a mobile phone, a device Muggles used to communicate with one another from long distances – but such stresses of the everyday people passing by were trivial, like a long day at the office, or realising someone’s forgotten to do the shopping.

An hour passed by without either of the two really recognising such a thing, but it was then they figured, once more, they may have to go inside soon. The sky was growing dark with rainclouds, and lunch would likely be ready by now. Remus, no doubt, would also likely be having either a meltdown of some sorts or even a shutdown, perhaps even both simultaneously.

Sighing, Sirius stood up slowly, stretching as he did before holding out a hand for Willow to take. She took it, although continued to sit for a minute or two more before the man pulled her onto her feet. She turned and looked at the street as a sprinkle of rain began to come down on them. It was much quieter now, people having gone inside to avoid the oncoming rain.

“Come on,” Sirius spoke quietly, squeezing the girl’s hand lightly. She didn’t want to leave the steps; if she had things her way she would have stayed there for the rest of the day, but she supposed Remus needed to know she was alright.

So, with another sigh, Willow said a silent goodbye to the now silent street, before turning on her heel and following Sirius back inside the house, where once more she would be plunged into a feeling of deep stress.


	4. Chapter 4

_Kill the spare –_

“No!” Willow tried to shout, her eyes snapping open as she began to try and regain her breath. She laid a hand on her chest to try and calm her quickly beating heart. It had been a week and a day since Cedric had been killed, and the last three of Willow’s nights had been plagued by the memories of what she had seen, no longer witnessing them in her waking hours, but instead being tortured by them during the night.

Sitting up, she began to tear up quickly as she ran a hand through her hair. She threw her blankets off with a sudden snap of fury; all she wanted was a good night’s sleep, where she didn’t have to wake up drenched in sweat and with her mind whirling. Forgetting her surroundings, for a moment, she let out a frustrated scream, before remembering that Molly and Arthur were asleep in one of the rooms beside her; she didn’t want to wake them.

It was then when she decided to stand before taking her wand from the bedside table and shooting various curses around the close to completely darkened room, only stopping when she accidentally cursed a hole through the wall between her room and the other uninhabited room on the other side of her room.

She hadn’t even realised it when she’d done it, but prior to lying back down with a painful anger-induced headache, she had pointed her wand to her head and silently let a spell fly, not even seconds passing before her once long red locks of hair fell to the floor. Only minutes later did she fall back to sleep, feeling much better than she had done ten minutes prior, not waking once more until the following morning.

She felt much lighter than she had ever done in that last week, when she awoke in the morning. She felt so good, in fact, that she was willing enough to head downstairs for breakfast this morning, unlike the others where either Sirius or Remus would bring food up to her.

When she arrived down in the basement kitchen, Sirius was in the kitchen helping Molly, whilst Arthur, Remus and Tonks were all sitting at the table stuck in deep conversation. Bill had left on the Friday night to meet the Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione at Kings Cross, where he then took them back to The Burrow, where they would stay and be briefed on the Saturday about what was happening, before bringing them over on the Sunday morning. And Charlie and Emma had left the week prior, not long after Willow had returned from her trip to Hyde Park, to gather with their friends, the other Order members, in Romania.

It was the sound of Remus practically choking on his glass of water that caught Willow’s attention, not long after she’d arrived in the room.

“Where in the world did your hair go?” he asked exasperatedly before entering a slight coughing fit. Willow’s eyes widened suddenly as Arthur and Tonks looked over. She ran a hand over her head and, sure enough, all that was there were the very tips of new hair growth, and that was when she remembered her midnight moment of madness.

“I forgot I did that,” Willow admitted quietly. If she was being honest, she quite missed her hair now that it was gone.

“Not to worry; I think it’s pretty cool,” Tonks said with a smile as she stood, making for the kitchen. Willow looked to her to see that, in only a second, Tonks hair went from its shoulder-length bright pink state to a shaved look very reminiscent of Willow’s. The girl smiled slightly at the sight; she hadn’t really thought much of Tonks at first, but she was quite liking her at the moment. The woman gave Willow a playful wink before reverting her hair back again and entering the kitchen, presumably to help Molly and Sirius bring breakfast out to the table.

“I cursed it off,” Willow explained, crossing her arms as she turned her attention back to Remus. “Might have also cursed a hole in the wall too –“

“Couldn’t believe Tonks when she said it,” Sirius interrupted, walking in looking quite excited. “I’ve got just the thing to go with that,” he said before hurriedly running up the stairs. For a moment, Remus opened his mouth to call out and try and stop the man, knowing exactly what Sirius was about to give Willow, although he had disappeared far too quickly to do such a thing. Not even a second later did Tonks come back into the room, a basket of bread rolls in her hands, giggling as Molly trailed behind her with a plate of sausages.

“You knew he’d go off, didn’t you?” Remus questioned, what looked to be an attempt at a stern expression on his face.

“Course I did,” Tonks said in between laughter as fast-paced footsteps began to sound upstairs. “Look, you gotta at least admit she’s gonna look pretty cool in it.”

“In what?” Willow asked.

“In this!” Sirius announced proudly, practically having jumped down the last set of stairs before sprinting into the room. He came to a halt in front of Willow and held out the leather jacket he was usually seen wearing. Remus was quick to begin shaking his head in what seemed to be disappointment.

“Now, now, Re,” Sirius began, signalling for Willow to hold her arms out for him to slip the jacket on, “it serves a practical use as well.”

“And what exactly may that be?”

“Well, if you have a look, it covers her mark, see? And, even better, she looks much more intimidating – she may even get away without having to break anyone’s noses this year –“

“I don’t know,” Willow spoke suddenly and honestly. Of course, she did like the jacket, a lot for that matter, but she didn’t entirely know if it suited her exactly. At this, Sirius brought Willow straight upstairs and into the entrance hall to have her look at herself in the mirror, and as she looked, a hint of a smile dawned across her face; it suited her well – perfectly, in fact – and as Sirius said, it did also serve quite a good practical use.

“So?” Sirius questioned, crossing his arms as he stood by Willow in the mirror. “Verdict?”

“I like it,” Willow said excitedly. She was about to hug Sirius, as thanks, but, quite suddenly, the front door burst open, and Willow, instead, was almost brought to tears.

What had been merely little over a week had felt like an eternity to her, and she was quick to practically jump into her older brother’s arms as he stepped through the door; Bill, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Hermione in tow.

Harry was immediate in wrapping his arms around his sister tight, sharing much of a similar feeling to her; he had missed her greatly in that last week and had desperately wished to see her again.

“You dyed your hair or something?” George joked as Willow broke away from her brother. For the first time in what seemed to be forever, a full smile managed to make its way onto Willow’s face before she pushed past Ron to reach George. She could feel herself tearing up as she wrapped her arms around him; she had needed him so desperately over that last week, to let her know, in some way, that she would be okay.

After managing to, eventually, tear herself away from George, Willow took a few steps, stopping in front of Fred as the others began to make their way downstairs at Sirius’ request. Not really knowing what else to do, Willow put her arms around Fred, although with much more caution in comparison to Harry and George. He reciprocated, although quite stiffly, at which point Willow asked if the two could head upstairs for a moment.

He was trying his best to be kind to her and stop himself from lashing out in some form; he was still upset that he was clueless to what was going on, Willow could tell. She couldn’t help but take in a few deep breaths as the two climbed the stairs up to her bedroom; she had decided, over the last few days, that it was probably best to tell Fred at least a few of the more important details of what was happening, and she suspected strongly that he would end up losing it in one way or another.

He was perfectly entitled to such a thing though, Willow thought to herself as she closed the bedroom door upon entering the room with him. If she had been in a similar situation, she would have likely felt the same.

“Dumbledore said Cedric was killed by You-Know-Who,” Fred spoke stiffly, brows slightly furrowed as he sat down on the bed. Willow felt a slight pang in her heart at the mention of Cedric’s name, but the mild expression on her face, for once, did not falter into that of sadness; she had no time for that at the moment, after all, and she wasn’t entirely willing to break down in front of Fred.

“He was,” Willow replied quietly, crossing her arms and swaying slightly on the spot, eyes turned towards the ground. “I’m a Death Eater,” she admitted, not bothering to look up and see how Fred would react to such news, not that that really mattered; his voice was expressive enough.

“What?” he stood quickly, causing the floorboards underneath to creak slightly.

“You heard me,” Willow said, brows furrowed as she finally lifted her head to look at Fred. She wasn’t exactly sure what emotion was showing on his face at the moment, although she knew, at the very least, it wasn’t positive in the slightest. “He marked me, in the graveyard, after Cedric was killed.”

“Graveyard?”

“Yes. That’s where we were taken,” Willow explained, turning away from Fred. “Not that you noticed anyway,” she muttered under her breath. She’d not had much time, as of yet, to think of that; to think about how Fred, from what she had heard, anyway, had not bothered to look for her as George had. How he had not been worried about where she may have been or worried about her, really, in general. In his defence, he had no idea about this whole Voldemort-Crouch situation, but even so –"

“I noticed you’d gone –“

“Yeah, but did you do anything about it?” Willow snapped, turning back around to face Fred again, glaring right into his soul. “Did you?” she asked again.

“No,” Fred replied honestly with a sigh; he was trying all he could not to raise his voice in any way to her. He knew she was only saying these things because she was in pain; she didn’t really mean it. “But how was I to know you were going to get kidnapped or whatever?”

“You knew at least that I wouldn’t have missed that task for anything,” Willow pointed out. “That should have been enough of a hint to know that something was wrong.”

“Well, I didn’t know, alright?” Fred said, making for the door. If this continued any longer they’d both be going off at one another, and that was one of the last things Fred wanted at the moment. “I made a mistake, alright? Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear anything,” Willow said heatedly, moving to stand in front of the door to stop Fred from leaving. She wasn’t finished with him yet. “I want to know that I can trust you to know when there’s something not right, because I can’t just have George doing all the work –“

“You can –“ Fred butted in, trying to push Willow away from the door.

“Can I?” Willow questioned in quite a dangerous tone, grabbing a tight, almost vicelike, hold of Fred’s wrist. He winced at the pain. “Because if I recall you didn’t entirely care during that second task either, did you? Once again all you were doing was sitting down and having a merry old time while George –“

“Willow, let go,” Fred ordered, staring into the girl’s eyes. “Now’s not the time, alright? Let go of my wrist and come down to breakfast with me –“

Without a second thought, Willow’s free hand reached up and slapped Fred quite harshly in the face, a red mark soon forming on his cheek. He did not yell at her though, for doing such a thing, but he was furious, something that was made quite evident when he forced Willow’s hand from his wrist and pushed her roughly away from the door, before opening it and pulling it closed with a slam loud enough for those downstairs in the basement to hear and, once again, Willow found herself alone.


	5. Chapter 5

“Willow?” the voice called from outside her door. It was George; no doubt there because he had heard from Fred what had happened a few hours prior. Willow hadn’t stopped thinking about what had happened ever since she had laid down on the bed initially, having felt an awful mixture of anger, despair and exhaustion. Why had she done it? Why had she gotten so angry with him? More importantly, why had she _hit_ him? Reflecting, he hadn’t _really_ done anything wrong; he had no clue about the whole Voldemort thing and, really, there wasn’t _too_ much need to worry about her during those tasks. He would have heard her talk about the lake when they were walking to Professor McGonagall’s office back in February, and she _had_ said she was just going to find her wand during that third task a week or so prior; perhaps she had just forgotten the time, in his mind.

“Willow?” George called again, his tone of voice much more serious than before.

“Go away!” Willow shouted reflexively, tears spilling from her eyes and falling onto her pillow. She regretted saying those words immediately; she had become so used to shutting people out lately that, regrettably, she had forgotten how to let George in.

“I’m not going anywhere,” George said in indignation, much to Willow’s relief, “now open the bloody door, will you?”

With a quick glance at the door, Willow saw the spell _Alohomora_ appear in her mind, and not even a second later the door creaked open, revealing the aggravated figure of George, arms crossed over his chest tight and his eyebrows furrowed. His stern expression was quick to soften though, upon seeing Willow, curled up in her blankets, crying.

“I was wrong, I know,” Willow spoke quickly, sniffling slightly as George practically sprinted to her side, kneeling down on the ground beside her to be face-to-face with her, a hand reflexively reaching to brush hair from her face, even though she no longer had any.

“You were,” George said truthfully, resting his forehead against hers, not caring for the fact that the door was still open and that anyone could come up and see such an unmistakeably intimate gesture taking place.

“Why am I so angry?” Willow asked desperately. She knew in her mind, already, that it was to do with the fact that in a mere hour her life had changed completely – losing one of her best friend’s and being forced to join a group of raving blood purists – but she wanted it to go away; she didn’t even know herself anymore, no longer being the mostly positive creature she had once been, now only being the more negative parts of her, like the one that had a tendency to lash out physically when she felt she was being threatened in some sort of way; a residual instinct leftover from a childhood of being constantly bullied and shamed by peers.

“It will go away,” George spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. “I know I’m not an expert with this stuff, losing people, I mean, but Mum was like you when she lost her brothers – angrier than usual and bursting into tears at the very least once or twice a day. She’s not like that anymore though, is she? And Emma, well, she was an absolute wreck after she lost Rowan – that was her best mate – as was Merula, but they’re alright now.”

“But how long did it take?” Willow questioned despairingly. George did not respond; he did not have an answer for this. Healing was different for everyone. It was a process that could take anywhere from a few days to a few years –

“I need to talk to Fred,” Willow whispered suddenly. George simply nodded in agreement, not knowing what else to do before taking his forehead from hers and helping her out of bed. For a brief moment, the two embraced, George kissing Willow lightly on the forehead as they did, again not caring about the open door, before he lead her downstairs to the first floor, where Fred was sitting silently on his bed, eyes focused on the floor; it looked as though he had been waiting for her.

Nodding George goodbye, she entered the bedroom as the younger twin shut the door for her and the older one to have some privacy as they conversed in a much more civil manner than the conversation, if that’s what it could be called, the two had engaged in earlier on that morning.

“I’m sorry,” Willow apologised, sitting down on George’s bed, across the room from Fred.

“It’s al–“ Fred began.

“It’s not alright,” Willow cut in. “You didn’t do anything that would warrant nor deserve me hurting you like that.”

“But –“

“Forget what I said this morning, okay? There wasn’t any need for you to be remotely worried during those tasks. You knew I was down in the lake in February, and you would have thought I’d just lost track of time while finding my wand during that third task, right?”

Fred nodded slowly in agreeance.

“And you had no idea about this whole You-Know-Who situation, either, so –” Willow added.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Fred asked suddenly, looking up from the floor at Willow, who’s eyes were now focused on the arms of the alarm clock sat on George’s bedside table.

“I didn’t tell you because, and I don’t mean any offence or anything,” Willow began with a sigh, “it’s just that, sometimes you’re difficult to talk to.” She looked over to see a mildly confused expression of Fred’s face. “What I mean is,” Willow tried to explain, “you don’t think about what you do or say before you do or say it. And I know that if I’d told you about all of this at the time you would have gone off your rocker and likely at me – don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right – either that or you would have tried to do something stupid whether that be trying to keep me away from everyone or everyone away from me.”

The two were silent for what seemed to be a long two or so minutes before Fred finally answered, in an indescribable tone, “You’re right. I understand.”

She had no idea what he had meant by that. Either he was agreeing with her and genuinely understanding, or there was some sort of sinister coded message in there somewhere.

“You’re staying with me, aren’t you?” Willow questioned, a bit confused and wanting to assure that all was as well as it could be.

“Course I am, why wouldn’t I? I love you,” Fred said, almost offended that she would suggest such a thing.

“Sorry,” Willow apologised, feeling her cheeks going red as the feeling of great embarrassment and shame began to set in.

“It’s alright,” Fred sighed, looking to the floor again.

“I guess I’ll go then,” Willow suggested, but Fred did not reply. So, without another word, Willow left the room and headed downstairs to the basement kitchen, where lunch was being readied. She did not eat much, as was a usual occurrence, even with George’s great many attempts at trying to coax her to do such a thing, eat more, that is. Fred did not come down for lunch, and for a split second, after it had finished, Willow considered going back to the twins’ room to try and talk to him again, although ultimately decided that it was not worth it, and ended up resigning herself to her bedroom for the remainder of the day, once again.

Hours passed by again until someone entered her room, and it had been Harry, who was carrying two plates of food with him – dinner. Willow hadn’t even registered that the sun had started going down slowly, and that her room had become significantly darker than what it had been a few hours prior.

“You’re not eating with all of them?” Willow observed as Harry shut the door behind him before handing a plate to Willow and sitting beside her on the floor. He shook his head as he began to eat.

“How have you been?” Willow asked. She remembered suddenly how concerned Sirius had been the week prior about Harry and how he was dealing with all that had happened.

“Bit better than you, I’d say,” Harry said, in between mouthfuls. “The nightmares have started though. How about you?”

“Struggling,” Willow replied honestly before eating a spoonful of peas. “Confused,” she added after she’d swallowed them down. “Angry and upset,” she said before putting the still full plate down beside her.

“Don’t stop eating that,” Harry ordered, his expression soft as he looked at her. “You’re starving yourself and that’s not a good thing. I can’t lose you anytime soon, especially not now.”

She picked up the plate again and slowly continued to eat with her brother in silence.

“They had a memorial for him at school,” Harry spoke quietly, a few minutes later, placing his empty plate on the ground beside him. “Dumbledore also told everyone that he’s back. I told them what happened this morning, too. Remus and the others, I mean. Right lot more details than you talked about I think.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really in the mood to share more at the time. I’m still not if I’m being honest.”

Once again, the siblings were silent as Willow finished her meal before placing her now empty plate on the ground and resting a head on Harry’s shoulder.

“That was Draco’s dad, wasn’t it?” Harry questioned suddenly. “In the graveyard, I mean. The one that tried to protect you?”

Willow nodded her head. “Why?” she asked; she didn’t have the most pleasant of feelings, like she knew that Harry was going to do something not so great –

“I want to break up with him,” Harry admitted. Just what Willow had suspected. “With Draco, I mean.”

“Why?” Willow asked again. Harry loved that boy with every bit of his heart and soul. Why would he do that?

“To protect him,” Harry replied.

“Harry, you do realise, in, what, a year or two’s time You-Know-Who’s likely going to have him under his wing as well?” Willow questioned, confused as to what Harry had said. No matter what he, or anyone, did, Draco was not someone that could easily be shielded from Voldemort; he was the only son of a Death Eater, after all, and there was no doubt that Voldemort would mark him at some point too, whether it be simply for his own pleasure for ruining another innocent person’s life or to try and persuade Lucius to do something less-than-satisfactory. “Harry, there’s no point –“

“Yeah, but, if we’re not together, he won’t be as much of a target, will he?”

“It’s got nothing to do with – whatever – do what you want then,” Willow sighed. “It’s not my relationship anyway. Just, think about it though, for a bit, alright?”

Harry nodded, and once more the two were silent. Willow sighed again, thinking about what Harry had just said. She was upset, really, that he would do such a thing to Draco, that he would even think of doing such a thing. He was going to be targeted either way, although that also got Willow thinking; perhaps she should be worried about those close to her too, about them potentially being targets for Voldemort to use to try and hurt Willow in some way, shape or form.

Harry left the room after a few more minutes, bidding his sister goodnight, taking the empty plates with him as he left. Willow, mind still reeling, dressed silently into her nightclothes before climbing into bed, tucking herself tightly under the blankets. She wondered to herself who could be the first of Willow’s circle that Voldemort might try and get to someday in the future, and almost immediately her mind trailed to the twins, but, much more specifically, Fred. Perhaps she had a valid excuse to break up with him now, when the time was needed for such a thing.


	6. Chapter 6

_Late October, and the morning was cold as the autumn was beginning to transform into the winter. Draco was out, walking the grounds before breakfast, something that had become routine for him during the early hours of the morning. He loved the feel of the cold air as he walked, the brightness of the sun as it edged over the horizon, and the light crunch of the grass, the most meagre amount of snow having recently fallen onto the ground._

_The silence of the grounds reminded him of home, and more specifically, this morning, he was reminded of one of the days he and Willow walked the grounds of the Manor, and how peaceful it had all been, until Willow had fallen into the lake, of course, and the black swans had started attacking her. He laughed quietly to himself thinking about the whole ordeal; at the time, of course, he had been absolutely terrified, having sprinted back up to the house to find their parents to save Willow from any further injury, but reflecting on the occasion, the situation had been quite funny._

_“What are you thinking about?” a voice asked from behind Draco, snapping him from his thoughts. He turned quickly to see Harry, trailing quickly behind him._

_“The time when your sister got attacked by our swans,” Draco replied, looking towards the ground as Harry walked beside him. He liked Harry, very much, especially during the last weeks as Harry had spent more time with him. This was the first time, though, that Harry had decided to join him on his morning walk. “She fell into the lake while we were walking one morning. Scary when it happened, funny to think about now, of course.”_

_Harry hummed in response; he hadn’t spent much, or practically any, time with Willow yet. He still thought she wasn’t the best person ever._

_“She’s not bad,” Draco said. He wanted Harry to have a good relationship with Willow; she was a good person, for the most part, and Draco had enjoyed having a sister for the last eleven years. It would be a shame if Harry couldn’t enjoy having a sibling, especially one like Willow._

_“I know,” Harry said. “I don’t know how to talk to her though. I mean, what do you say to someone you haven’t seen in eleven years? Especially a sister.”_

_“Just talk to her,” Draco suggested, coming to a stop under the beech tree by the lake and sitting down on the ground. “Pretend you’ve known her all your life or something, I don’t know.”_

_“Not very helpful but I guess I can try that,” Harry said with a smile as he sat down beside the blond boy._

_Draco smiled too, as he began to pick at the cold grass nervously. “Do you like me?” he asked suddenly, hoping the black-haired boy’s answer would be a positive one._

_“As a friend?” Harry questioned, feeling his cheeks go red and warm. He didn’t think he would have to answer this question any time soon._

_“No,” Draco said. “More.” He looked over at Harry, a hopeful smile on his face as he stared into the boy’s eyes, grey into green._

_“Yes,” Harry admitted quietly, a shy smile on his face before he covered his face in his hands and began to laugh. Draco laughed with him, for a moment, before taking one of the hands on the boy’s face and holding it in his own._

_“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” he asked, almost shaking with excitement. Harry liked him! And they were holding hands!_

_“Yeah,” Harry replied, smiling a bit brighter and a little less shyly as he squeezed Draco’s hand lightly. Neither of the two could really believe what had just happened._

Nor could Draco believe what had just happened now.

He had awoken early that morning, to the sound of his Eagle Owl rapping noisily at the window, begging to be allowed inside, a letter clasped in his beak. He didn’t mind being awoken so early though, as the bird had returned with a letter from Harry; another to add to the collection that had piled up on one of his bedroom walls.

Slowly, he stood out of bed, one of his blankets still wrapped around him; yes, summer was well and truly here, but the dawns were still a little chilly. Quickly, he opened and shut the window, the owl zooming in and placing the letter on the bedside table before sitting in its enclosure and falling asleep. Draco sat back down again, taking the envelope in his hand and observing it closely. There seemed to be stains, small, dark and circular, scattered around the front, and the writing that said ‘To Draco Malfoy’ was all wonky and scattered, as if Harry had had trouble writing it. He had been crying while writing, but why? Had he woken in the middle of the night to a nightmare and penned a letter straight to Draco, expressing how much he needed him? Harry had felt very lonely recently, so it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

Carefully, he tore the envelope open, before removing the letter inside, unfolding and observing that it was in a significantly better condition than the envelope had been; the writing was neat and there were no tear-stains to be seen.

**Draco** , it began, which immediately struck Draco as strange, as Harry usually began his letters with ‘Dear Draco’ or ‘My Love’.

 **Before you read this, please know that I love you, more than anything else in the world, and it breaks my heart that I have to do this, but I just want you to be safe. I’m doing this because I don’t want to lose you** , it continued. Draco felt his heartrate increase. He knew what was coming next, and he didn’t want to believe it – he couldn’t – but he knew he would have to, sooner or later.

 **We can’t be together anymore** – there it was – **and I’m so, so sorry. I wish things were different but, unfortunately, they aren’t, so, yeah.**

 **Please remember though that I am doing this because I love you, and it hurts me just as much as it will when you read this**. But will it though? _Will it really hurt you as much as it hurts me_ , Draco thought, a lump beginning to form in his throat and anger beginning to pulse through his veins.

 **Again, I’m forever sorry for having to do this** – _are you really, though_ – **I didn’t want to, trust me** – _if you didn’t want to, why did you do it? And how could I trust you now when you’ve just said all this?_

**I’m sorry for everything,**

**Harry.**

He couldn’t begin to describe just how much pain all those words had inflicted on him. ‘We can’t be together anymore’, but why? Why couldn’t they be? Because of Voldemort – because he was afraid of Draco getting hurt in some way? He was bound to be in the end, anyway, so what was the point?

Draco almost screamed as he threw the letter to the ground before kicking his dresser, almost hard enough to break a toe. He threw the covers off his bed, he tore the letters from Harry he cherished so much off the wall, he shoved his bedside table to the ground causing the delicate glassware Harry had gifted him during holidays to smash. He then collapsed into a heap on the floor, sobbing so hard his body shook with every breath.

All those years, all those memories, all the comfort and joy that Harry brought to Draco’s life, were now gone and all in one fell swoop.

They were supposed to hit three years that October, and Draco had planned on walking the grounds with Harry and sitting under the beech tree that had led to their union. He’d planned on spoiling him with presents – he’d recently bought a ring for Harry; an engagement to be engaged as such. Wouldn’t come to any use now though, would it?

It took Draco a half hour to calm himself to a reasonable point, at which he dressed and made his way downstairs to the dining hall for breakfast, where both his parents were already sat, waiting for their son to take his own seat to begin eating.

“That owl was making a lot of noise this morning,” his father said as soon as he sat down. “Another letter from Harry, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Draco managed to reply quietly, holding back the sudden urge to start crying again; he didn’t want to make his parents think anything had happened, especially considering he still couldn’t fully believe what had happened. Perhaps it had all just been a bad dream that he would wake from soon, or maybe he had read the letter wrong. It had been quite dark in his bedroom after all, considering how early in the morning in had been and the fact that the sun hadn’t completely risen over the horizon at the time.

“So, what’s going on then?” Narcissa asked. “Is he able to see you soon?”

Draco couldn’t stop himself from standing again, seconds after his mother had spoken, before practically running back to his bedroom, tears falling from his eyes as he went, hands feverishly trying to wipe them away so as to prevent anyone from seeing the pain he was in, even though he knew now it was definitely too late. At this rate, Draco would not see Harry again, at least not for a while, and he knew the next time they were to see one another would be a heartbreaking occasion.

It did not take long for someone to knock on the closed door of Draco’s bedroom. Lucius entered to see the boy hidden under his blankets on the floor, sniffling and choking back sobs. He was quite angry, Lucius, if he were being honest. He knew immediately, as soon as Draco had ran from the table, just what letter he might have received that morning, and he hated Harry for hurting his son in such a way.

He hadn’t known about their relationship for long – only a year in comparison to Narcissa, who had known ever since the two boys initially got together – but he knew enough to know that the both of them cherished one another more than anything, and he knew that, whatever reason Harry had said what he’d said, was a foolish one.

He was silent as he approached the boy, who turned briefly under the blankets when one of the floorboards creaked under Lucius’ step, before sitting down on the floor beside him and pulling the blankets off of him, revealing a tear-stained face whose eyes echoed the pain he felt in his heart.

“Why did he do that?” Draco asked desperately, voice breaking. “Why did he do that?” he repeated louder in between sobs.

“Because he’s a fool,” Lucius replied, pulling the boy into a tight embrace – a rare gesture from Lucius, although one that was desperately needed in this moment. Slowly, he began to run his hand over his son’s hair to try and calm him down.

“No he isn’t,” Draco whispered. But he was, he thought to himself barely a second later. Why was he even advocating for him when he’d just ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it into a million tiny pieces only a half hour before? “Never mind,” he added quietly as an afterthought, before he fell silent, head burying deeper into his father’s shoulder.

With time, Draco calmed once more, on the outside at least, and his father left him to his own devices, seeing the slight change in Draco’s outward appearance. But once Lucius had left the room, Draco’s mind continued to swirl. He had barely a month until he would see Harry again, and he didn’t know what he was going to do when that happened. Perhaps he could talk to him, sort things out better; maybe they could even rekindle everything. No, that wouldn’t do, Draco thought to himself, sighing. Harry had hurt him, and it was about time for him to taste a bit of his own medicine.


	7. Chapter 7

“Don’t you think we should head back now?” Harry asked, sitting beside his sister, who was in amidst smoking a cigarette, on the park bench. The pair had begged that morning for Sirius and Remus to let them out, having been trapped inside Grimmauld Place for little over a month now, and after a half hour of promising to not get hurt, the fathers finally gave in and allowed the two an hour of time to go outside and no more.

Willow shook her head. “It’s only nine – the sun’s barely even gone down – we’ll be fine,” she said nonchalantly. “Besides, we won’t get freedom like this again; we’ll be grounded when we go back, so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I guess,” Harry resigned with a sigh, finally giving in. He had asked, once every hour, since the two had left the house that morning whether they should go back or keep walking, and each time Willow’s response was akin to that of what she had just said. Sometimes he really hated her laxness when it came to following rules, but she had a point; this would be their last bit of freedom for the near future, so he might as well enjoy it before he and his sister are grounded for being gone close to twelve hours over the time limit they had been given that morning.

“Bit shit here, isn’t it?” Willow observed, standing up to walk over to one of the rubbish bins to throw out her used cigarette before sitting down again with a sigh. The park was looking a bit more worse for wear than what Harry remembered it to be, the paint now peeling from the swing set and the metal of the slide rusting away.

“It never used to be so bad,” Harry explained, remembering the last time he had been to this park. He had been around seven or eight at the time, and it was one of the rare days that his Uncle Vernon had been out of the house; his Aunt Petunia decided to take him and his cousin Dudley to the park for some time out of the house. This was perhaps one of Harry’s only good memories, and one of the only memories Harry could recall where Aunt Petunia had been nice to him and had encouraged Dudley to do the same.

“I broke up with Draco,” Harry admitted after a few minutes of silence, feeling tears beginning to prickle at the edge of his eyes. It had been closing in on a week since he had sent away the letter, and a large part of him was regretting having done such a thing, but there wasn’t anything he could do to fix things now, even if he tried.

“I’m going to break up with Fred,” Willow admitted herself, quitter than Harry. It had been weeks now since her talk with Harry, and since that incident with Fred, but as the weeks went on, Fred and Willow’s relationship with one another had barely improved – not helped by the fact that Willow was still keeping fairly secretive about all that had gone down in that graveyard in June – and she could see that neither of the two would be happy with one another in the long run, especially not at this point of time.

“Because you love George, right?” Harry questioned.

“Yes and no,” Willow replied honestly. True, of course, she did love George, and he loved her, and such a thing was a factor into the reason why she wanted to end things with Fred, but more importantly –

“I just don’t think a relationship’s good at the moment,” Willow explained. “You know what I mean? With all this stress and worry and whatever the fuck else –“

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry said, standing up and pulling Willow up with him as the two began to walk, both deciding silently in that moment that they should find themselves a deserted alley and apparate back to Grimmauld Place. They found themselves turning into Magnolia Crescent, and as they did the two of them bumped into the familiar face of their cousin, who looked to be heading home himself.

“What are you two doing here?” Dudley questioned upon seeing them, quite confused as to how they had managed to get to Little Whinging.

“Nothing much,” Willow said. “Walking, I guess. We have to get home now though.” The three teenagers turned into an alleyway. “We’re twelve hours past curfew so –“

“Shh!” Harry shushed suddenly and harshly. Willow looked at him, confused, before looking up to where Harry had his eyes focused. The clouds in the sky were changing, transfiguring from a light cover to a bundle of dark storm clouds in a matter of seconds, causing the sky to darken drastically. Willow shivered as a cold wind swept over them and panicked upon seeing the tufts of grass growing in the cracks of the concrete below shrivel up and die.

She and Harry looked at one another for a moment and, with a nod, Willow, not caring for Dudley’s presence, transformed herself into her wolf form; at least she wouldn’t be affected as much by the Dementors that were drawing near, after all, that was how Sirius had survived all those years in Azkaban – by turning into a dog.

It happened so quickly that Willow almost didn’t have time to comprehend it all; in a matter of seconds, two Dementors came round the corner, one shoving Harry against the alley wall and the other shoving Dudley against the other, and poor Willow couldn’t do a thing, for if she turned human, she knew she would pass out immediately after. Fortunately, though, Harry was able to quickly reach for his wand and within a matter of moments a large silver stag burst from the tip of his wand, cantering around the place, expelling the Dementors and returning the alley and the world around it normal again.

After a bit of pacing up and down the alley to assure herself that the Dementors had definitely gone away, Willow became human again and made her way to Dudley, who looked half-dead, before swinging an arm of his over her shoulders and beckoning for Harry to do the same; they would have to make a quick visit to Number Four Privet Drive, it seemed.

“He doesn’t look to good, does he?” Harry observed as he swung Dudley’s other arm over his shoulders before the siblings stood him up properly and began to walk, Dudley’s feet dragging along behind them.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Willow responded dryly as they found their way to the end of the alleyway, turning into Privet Drive; she was thankful they weren’t too far away from the house. “He’s just had his soul molested, what were you expecting?”

It did not take much longer for the Potter siblings to arrive at the house, their sickly cousin propped up between them. Aunt Petunia almost fainted when she saw them all at the front door but was quick to let them in and set Dudley down on the sofa in the sitting room.

“Dementors,” Willow was quick to explain as she collapsed into one of the chairs by the sofa. She knew her aunt would understand what those were, after all, she had grown up with her mother. “He’ll just need rest and a bit of water oh, and if you’ve got chocolate that’ll be good too, but he should be back to normal soon enough.” At least, she hoped he would be; Willow didn’t know what the after effects of a Dementor attack on a Muggle would entail, considering none had ever happened before, to her knowledge. “Where’s the man of the house?” Willow asked, having noticed the lack of her Uncle Vernon’s presence.

“Gone,” Petunia replied, seemingly disappointed although a smile was gracing her face. “Haven’t seen him for a week.” The smile grew larger. “Would you like to stay for tea?” she offered, heading into the kitchen to set the kettle to boil.

“I’d love to but we really should get home,” Willow sighed standing and looking over at Harry who was anxiously waiting at the front door, hands in his pockets. “Promised our dads we would be back within the hour. Suffice to say, we’ve gone a bit over that time considering we managed to walk all the way here from London.”

“Right, well, you best be off then,” Petunia said, walking Willow to the front door and opening it for her niece and nephew. “Thank you, for bringing Dudley home, and for the brief visit.”

Willow nodded welcomely as she and Harry left the house to make their way back to the alleyway where the Dementors had been. Once there, and once having assured that the coast was clear, Harry removed a hand from his pocket for Willow to take a hold of before she apparated the two of them back to the front steps of Grimmauld Place.

As quietly as possible, upon their arrival, the siblings slipped through the front door with the intentions of making their way to their bedrooms unnoticed – perhaps they could come up with some sort of story about them getting separated or something and Willow having spent all this time looking for Harry – although such attempts were quickly thwarted as the two of them, as soon as they had closed the door, turned to see that they were standing face-to-face with Sirius, whose arms were crossed, a letter in one of his hands, and a _very_ much angered expression on his face.

“One hour,” Sirius reminded the two sternly. Harry swallowed nervously and looked to the ground in shame, and, as much as Willow tried to hold a brave face in the wake of her quite rightfully angry father, she too followed the same movements as Harry, lowering her head in shame and cowering behind her brother.

“Absolutely worried sick, we’ve been!” Sirius shouted. Neither of the two had ever heard Sirius shout, really, especially not in such a way as this. “Poor Remus has been an absolute mess the whole bloody day!” Willow felt her heart sink; she hadn’t meant to hurt either of her fathers in such a way, especially Remus. “Been upstairs locked away in his bedroom worried that his kids are either hurt severely or dead!” Sirius continued to shout, much louder than before. “And Harry, for god sake, I expected so much better of you! Do you know how dangerous it is out there for the two of you at the moment?”

The siblings nodded their heads.

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, don’t you?” Sirius said, no longer shouting although his voice still quite cold. “You’ve been expelled, Harry,” he then said, disappointingly.

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned, suddenly very alert, eyes wide as he turned his head up to look at Sirius. The man then handed the letter in his hand to Harry and the boy and his sister, who was peeking over his shoulder, read the letter quietly to themselves.

“There were Dementors!” Harry shouted angrily, throwing the letter to the ground. It had said he was being expelled for using underage magic in the presence of a Muggle. “It was self-defence!” he continued. “Stupid fucking Ministry!”

“Language,” Sirius warned, causing his son to glare at him. “What do you mean there were Dementors?” he asked, expression suddenly softening and his arms falling to his sides.

“There were two of them,” Willow recalled as she began rocking side-to-side where she stood, arms crossing over her chest. “ _He_ didn’t send them, I know that for a fact. You said the Ministry’s trying to shut us up, though, so –“

“Yes,” Sirius agreed with a sigh. “I think another meeting is in order. Four days from now, we’re all free. I’ll get the news to Alastor and the others. As for you two –“ Sirius looked at the two teenagers, arms crossing over his chest again, “– there’s leftovers in the fridge from dinner, and you’re both forbidden from leaving this house, do you understand?”

Once again, they both nodded, but Willow opened her mouth to speak.

“If _he_ wants you, you can go, but those will be the only times you leave this house,” Sirius added before Willow could say a word. “Now, I’m going upstairs to see Remus – tell him that our kids are alright – and I expect an apology from the both of you within the next half hour.”

Again, the siblings nodded before heading down to the basement kitchen, Sirius heading upstairs to Remus’ bedroom. The two did not end up eating much, too ashamed to do so, and when they did eat, they ate in complete silence. It only took a few minutes for them to finish, before they went upstairs to their bedrooms to ready themselves for bed, before one went upstairs and the other down to reach both Remus and Sirius’ rooms, respectively.

When she entered his bedroom, she saw him, Remus, sitting on the sofa in the corner of the room, his head rested in his hands. “Dad?” she spoke quietly as she closed the door behind her. She was quickly regretting having been out for so long that day, seeing her father in the state that he was. “I’m sorry,” Willow apologised in a whisper, but she knew those words wouldn’t do much. She could feel tears beginning to form; she shouldn’t have gone out, not for that long.

“Yell,” Willow then said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. In most scenarios, Willow would have been quite happy with Remus’ usual calm approach to any situation, especially those having to do with her misbehaving, but on a day like today, she did not deserve that. “Yell at me,” she begged. She did not deserve to be treated in a calm manner; she deserved to be treated the same way Sirius had treated her and her brother downstairs, perhaps even worse. “Please,” she pleaded. “Yell at me for going behind your back and, and, breaking my promise and misbehaving and scaring you and hurting you and for being the worst child –“

“Don’t say that,” Remus finally spoke. “Don’t ever say that about yourself,” he said, lifting his head to see her. It was then when a tear fell from his eye, and Willow, in an instant, felt herself drop to the floor in a mess of anguished sobbing. She hurt him, and she didn’t like that; she was now starting to wish she had never left the house in the first place or better yet, wishing she had never even asked to go out.

As soon as Willow had gone to the floor, Remus made his way hastily over to the girl, to stand her up and hold her in his arms. Stubborn as she was, it took a few attempts for him to get her standing, but, soon enough, she had his arms wrapped tight around his chest, not wanting to let go.

“If you were as bad as you think you are,” Remus began, squeezing Willow briefly as a hand reached up reflexively to touch the meagre amount of hair on her head, “I wouldn’t have been in the state I was in, would I?” Slowly, Remus walked with Willow, who was still clinging tight to him, over to the sofa before sitting her down, and sitting down himself beside her. “I think, if you were as bad as you think you are, I think it’s more than likely that I wouldn’t care for you having gone for so long. And I’m not going to yell at you, because, well, there’s not really a point to that. I’m not angry –“

“How could you not be angry with me?” Willow cried. “I promised an hour –“

“Because I love you, Willow,” Remus said, taking a hold of one of the girl’s hands and looking her in the eyes. “When you were born,” he began, “the moment I first laid eyes on you, the moment I first held you in my arms, I promised myself that there would never be a day that I would raise my voice at you or shout at you in anger, if I could help it. Of course, at the time I thought it would be for more menial things considering I wouldn’t ever imagined that James and Lily would – well – anyway – the point is, there’s usually always a reason behind a spot of misbehaviour and in such a case it’s more important to listen than to go straight into scolding or berating or whatever else.”

“You did what you did today because you don’t like being trapped in here, correct?” Remus then asked. Willow nodded in response as she wiped away the few remaining tears on her face. “Why?”

“Because it’s always stressful,” Willow explained quietly. “Even when there isn’t any Order meetings and I’m just alone in my room everything’s still stressful and difficult to manage and – I don’t know. Then of course, aside from the war stuff there’s trying to get better with Fred but nothing’s happening there and everyone else here is stressed and I just, I just needed a break.”

“That’s understandable,” Remus said, nodding slightly. “How would you feel about a compromise?”

“Compromise?”

“Yes, well, I don’t want you getting any worse, but I also can’t have you going out for hours at a time, and then of course there’s also the need to enforce a bit more discipline –“

“What are you saying?”

“An hour on Sundays, you can go out. Granted, of course, that it’s during the day, preferably in the morning after breakfast –“

“And if someone else comes with me, like the twins?”

“I might be a bit more lenient in that case,” Remus said, smiling as he saw a smile beginning to form on his daughter’s face for what seemed to be the first time in forever; she wasn’t smiling as much nowadays, especially in this last week or so, now that Cedric’s death had completely sunk in and the prospect of war was becoming clearer and clearer to her.

“Thank you,” Willow thanked graciously, pulling her father into a hug. “And I love you too.”


	8. Chapter 8

_His head ached greatly, to the point where it felt as though it was burning, which was what caused him to open his eyes finally. He was in his bedroom; that was made clear by the Slytherin team posters draping the far wall above his dresser, but why was he here?_

_Surely it all had to be some sort of death-induced dream – his mind, perhaps, imagining the safest place he could think of as he crossed over the bridge – he was supposed to be dead after all._

_He had barely heard the door creak open, the figure of a small creature of sorts entering the room with an assortment of unknown items. He soon recognised that creature as his house-elf; he was imagining his favourite someone too, it seemed._

_“Master has a fever,” the house-elf said, having placed his cold hand against his master’s forehead. With haste, he removed his hand and used both to place a bit of cloth in the water basin he had brought with him. After having carefully wrung out any excess water, he gently placed the cloth against his master’s forehead, hoping this would tame his fever to some degree._

_Regulus flinched upon feeling the sudden coldness of the cloth against his forehead, but he shouldn’t have felt anything, right?_

_“Is Master feeling alright?” the house-elf asked upon seeing the suddenly disturbed expression on his master’s face._

_“Kreacher?” he asked hoarsely, barely able to speak. “Am I alive?”_

_“Forgive me, Master,” Kreacher began to beg, dropping to his knees as he began to wail. “I could not let you die there! You ordered for Kreacher to leave you there, but I could not do it, Sir!” The poorly house-elf was now hitting his head quite hard against the bed, over and over again._

_“Kreacher, it’s okay,” Regulus whispered in an attempt to calm his house-elf, although he was thinking the complete opposite in that moment. This was most definitely_ not _okay. He had ordered Kreacher to leave him to die there for a very good reason; Voldemort was sure to discover what Regulus had done in due time, and that he had deserted the Death Eaters, both of which things he would be prosecuted for. He could almost see in his head how long it would take for Voldemort and the others to hunt him down and kill him._

But years passed, and nothing ever did happen to Regulus Black. By the world, he was assumed dead, considering he had seemingly disappeared without a trace, when in actual fact he had just managed to stay hidden in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, long enough for the Dark Lord and his followers to fall to some degree.

He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, although he assumed his mother had been behind most of the tricks that had kept him safe for so long. Disappointed as she was that her son had deserted the Death Eaters and tried to destroy Voldemort – although to no avail, as the locket, which contained part of the Dark Lord’s soul, still sat in a glass container with the Black family heirlooms – she was not going to let her youngest perish, instead strengthening the charms that had already been added to the house by her deceased husband, and adding a few more for good measure.

He lived in the house, hidden from the outside world for six more years, until his mother perished at the young age of sixty. Too overcome with grief, the young man decided it best to move somewhere new. He did not go far, only moving down the street into Number Seventeen, where he knew the owner of the house, Ophelia Elizabeth – a good friend of his mother’s, would keep him safe from the outside world. She left, leaving the house to him, in the New Year of nineteen eighty-nine, only days after her daughter, Emma, had abandoned home to live with the Weasley family.

For another six years, he lived in peaceful solitude, until one night he awoke in a cold sweat to the feeling of the mark on his left forearm burning greater than it had ever done before. It had been burning sporadically throughout the months prior, signalling that his former master was returning, but on this night, the intensity of the burn signalled that, not only had he returned, but he had recruited someone new and, curiosity getting the best of him, Regulus, quite foolishly, apparated to wherever in the world it was where this occasion was taking place.

To his fortune, he had apparated in amongst a large group of Death Eaters, and as they moved into formation, Regulus was given the opportunity to hide himself between the larger gravestones of the familiar graveyard; Voldemort would always hold meetings here, once upon a time. From his hiding spot he watched as the scene unfolded in front of him; right in the middle of the graveyard was Voldemort, who had his wand pressed against the skin of a young teenage girl, who looked eerily similar to someone he once knew long ago during his years at Hogwarts.

But he knew it could not be her – she was too young to be Lily Evans, plus, Lily had been murdered fourteen years prior – but then the realisation had struck him that this, in fact, was her daughter.

He had seen the news only a few years prior, in September of nineteen ninety-two. For some unknown reason, the news that the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, Lily’s son, had a younger sister was not widely recognised, but Regulus, who had been collecting every newspaper he could lay his hands on, had seen the small article that had been written in the _Daily Prophet_ , about how, for so many years, Lily and James Potter had had a daughter hidden from most of the world.

He didn’t know what it was, that evening, that had made him promise something so potentially life-threatening. Whether it was the knowledge that Voldemort had taken such a young, innocent child under his wing or the knowledge that said child was the daughter of one of his former friends, he did not know; all he knew that night was, upon having seen the girl, that he’d now promised himself to protect her no matter the cost, whether that be his secrecy or his life, it did not matter to him.

And such a promise came to good use, one night at the beginning of August of that same year. He had awoken the same way he had awoken that night at the end of June, in a cold sweat and his mark burning intensely. Once again, at great risk to his life, he apparated to the graveyard, where Voldemort was holding a meeting with a few of his most prized Death Eaters, and his newest recruit, the girl they called Willow-Violet Potter.

He could not discern, from where he stood, what they were talking about, but whatever it had been, it was making the young girl fairly agitated, which soon lead to her being tortured with the Cruciatus curse by the Dark Lord himself. It was agony for him to watch as the girl began to convulse wildly, a bloodcurdling scream echoing from her body as she did, and Regulus could feel himself having to stop himself from running out there to rescue her from such pain. After all, he had been in such a situation many a time before. He knew he could not go out there though, for if he did his plans would be foiled, and poor Willow would likely be left to die here, which, in retrospect, would not be such a terrible place to die, considering one would just join the others that were already laid under the earth, but Regulus was still unwilling to allow for such a thing to happen.

The whole ordeal only lasted a few minutes, but by the time Voldemort and his Death Eaters had left the premise, Willow was exhausted and on the brink of passing out, at which point Regulus, seeing it safe to do so, ran out from his hiding spot and took the girl in his arms.

“Sirius?” she whispered, confused as to why he would be in such a place.

Regulus shook his head. “Regulus,” he corrected, and the girl nodded, deeming the information agreeable. “Where should I bring you?” he then asked quietly, unsure of where she was located.

“Grimmauld Place … Number Twelve.”

***

He was the only one that had awoken, having heard the loud cracking sound that had echoed from his daughter’s bedroom. At the time, he had been on his way downstairs, to get himself a glass of water from the basement kitchen, when he had heard the sound. Changing priorities, he quickly found his way to Willow’s room and opened the door, to see if she had just left or come back, the former being the case, as the room was completely deserted upon inspection.

There was no way that Sirius would get back to sleep now. No longer feeling thirsty, either, he made his way downstairs, and instead of going to the basement, he stopped on the level above, sitting down on the floor of the entrance hall; he didn’t care how many hours it would take, he was going to wait until Willow was back safe and sound.

To his great surprise though, barely ten minutes later was there a persistent knock at the front door. He stood so fast he almost passed out before he walked the few steps to the door, his wand at the ready in case something were to go wrong, and as he opened the door, he felt faint.

It had been close to twenty years since Sirius had seen him last, and all this time he and everyone else in the world had thought of him to be dead. But, low and behold, there he was, standing tall, his hair beginning to grey prematurely although still as well-kept as it had been over a decade prior, his face gaunt after years of not eating as much as he should, and Willow, passed out and shivering violently in his arms.

“Reg–“ Sirius began to say in utter disbelief.

“Shh,” Regulus ordered his older brother, who looked not so different to the last time he had seen him, as he pushed his way past him into the hall, Sirius closing and locking the door as he did. “Where does she sleep?”

“Third floor, next to the master, but be quiet – Molly and Arthur are next door, and Ron and Harry on the other side and what in the hell are you doing here?”

Regulus did not answer his brother’s question, instead proceeding to rush up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible until, finally, he reached the third-floor, at which point he entered the room he was instructed to head to before carefully placing Willow down on the empty bed and covering her gently with one of her blankets. He stayed a few minutes more, by the girl’s side, ignoring Sirius’ presence in the doorway; he wanted to make sure she was alright. Soon enough though, the shivering came to a halt and now she laid still, the only movement being that of her chest rising and falling with every breath she took. With a relieved sigh, Regulus left the room, closing the door behind him as he followed his brother downstairs again.

“I have to go –“

“We all thought you were dead!” Sirius said in a harsh whisper, not wanting to shout in case he were to wake the others.

“I know but you understand I had to stay hidden –“

“Oh, of course, but now it’s okay for you to come out of hiding –“

“If I hadn’t been there, she would have been dead!” Regulus shouted suddenly before remembering what time of night it was. He and Sirius came to a halt in the entrance hall, waiting patiently for any sounds to come about from upstairs, but none were made; everyone was still asleep.

“You’re right,” Sirius sighed. If it hadn’t been for Regulus, the likelihood of ever seeing Willow again was quite a shallow one. “It’s just –“

“I know,” Regulus said. “I’m sorry.”

“Where – where are you staying?” Sirius asked. Perhaps, maybe he could see him again soon? He hadn’t entirely put much thought into if or how much he missed his younger brother, but now that he was standing here after so many years –

“I cannot say. Not at the current moment. Just know that I am close by,” Regulus explained. As much as he would have liked to see Sirius again, he knew it best to continue to keep his location a secret, even to him.

“Right,” Sirius said, his eyes cast down to the floor as he sighed. Perhaps he wouldn’t be seeing him again soon then. “Well, thank you,” he thanked, looking back up at the face of his brother, quickly trying to memorise what it looked like as he did; he didn’t know if or when he’d see him next.

Regulus simply nodded, a hint of a smile on his face, what looked to be the first in many years, before he left the household, quickly and quietly, into the night once more. Sirius could only stand by the door, staring aimlessly at the wooden feature. And in what seemed to be the first time in forever, his eyes began to well-up, and soon his cheeks were stained with tears.

Regulus Black was alive.


	9. Chapter 9

She awoke in the early hours of the morning to the sounds of the downstairs coming alive. There was to be another meeting today, she knew that, but she had not expected it to be a breakfast occasion, instead figuring it would be held over lunch, or sometime in the mid-afternoon.

With a sigh, she stood, but quickly fell back onto the bed; her entire body was aching, and she felt weak in the muscles, reminding her strongly of the time when she was ten and had gotten the flu from Draco, who had contracted it from someone at school before he’d come home for the Christmas break.

Unlike that time four and a half years prior, though, she could not, for the life of her, determine why exactly her muscles were in as much despair as they were. She could not just sit up here though and wait to figure it out; there was a meeting, and she needed to attend it, considering there would be much discussion about what was going on in the Ministry and if there was any evidence that they themselves had sent those Dementors a few days ago.

So, once again, Willow stood and began to walk, trying her best to ignore the constant jolts of pain that ran through her nerves with every step she took. She was almost down the last flight of stairs when her body finally gave into the pain, causing her to collapse suddenly and fall down the last stairs, a pained screamed leaving her body as she laid writhing in tears on the floor.

From the dining room, all the Order members present had heard Willow’s scream, but it was the twins who had stood quicker than the others and rushed out to help her, Fred more specifically, which came as a great surprise to George, as he and Willow had had barely anything to do with one another over the last month or so.

“Willow –“ George began as he made his way towards the girl, who was now back on her feet with the help of Fred.

“I’m fine,” Willow insisted, but George knew she was far from such a thing; everyone knew that – it was quite painfully obvious, yet Willow refused to agree. “Just – get me in there,” she said, and George nodded without saying another word before wrapping her other arm over his shoulders, he and Fred then walking her into the dining room and sitting her down in between them.

At each head of the table today were Remus and Sirius respectively, and on either side of the twins sat Tonks and Molly. Across the table, Arthur, Moody, Kingsley, Bill, and a little man by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.

“You alright, Willow?” Remus asked as the girl, exhausted from her time getting downstairs, rested her head on Fred’s shoulder.

Ignoring the question, she instead asked, “What happened to me?”

“Cruciatus Curse,” Sirius replied quietly, not meeting Willow’s eye and instead focusing on a small crack in the black marble of the table. He seemed off, distant even. Had something happened the night before? If so, what was it?

“Anyway, now that we’re all here,” Moody spoke in his usual gruff tone, “anything from the Ministry?”

“Only more _Daily Prophet_ articles,” Kingsley explained, “especially in the wake of this Dementor attack. Like they’re trying to cover up their tracks, almost.”

“And Voldemort’s –“

“Why would he try to attack me?” Willow questioned before Moody could finish, sitting up in her chair and yawning before continuing. “I’m currently his most valuable asset, at least, that’s what he thinks. He is trying to get something though – a prophecy or some shit like that,” Willow said, suddenly having remembered some of the events of the night. That’s why she had been tortured; she had threatened to tell the Order what Voldemort was planning.

“The prophecy? Willow are you sure that’s what he said?” Remus asked, sitting taller in his own chair and leaning over the table slightly, as if he hadn’t heard properly what Willow had said. It was then when Willow realised that everyone at the table, with the exception of the twins, looked as though they were a group of deer in headlights.

“Pretty sure that’s what he said – I can’t fully remember – he put a charm on me – tortured half of it off of course, the idiot – fucked if I know what this prophecy is though,” Willow spoke honestly.

“The prophecy,” Sirius began to explain, clearing his throat as he, too, sat up in his chair, “well, you’ll know Professor Trelawny, yes? There was a night before Harry was born, she was with Dumbledore, and for once she made a proper seeing or whatever you would call it, and that’s what the prophecy is.”

“In more detail,” Remus said, seeing the look of confusion on Willow’s face, “the prophecy stated that a child with more power than even Voldemort could fathom would be born at the end of July. He knew that part, and it could have either been Neville or Harry, and as we know of course, he chose the latter to try and kill. The thing is, though, he did not know the end of that prophecy and that is that either one will have to kill the other; Voldemort marked Harry as his equal that night he came to Godric’s Hollow.”

“Does Harry know?” Willow asked. She was hoping he didn’t, considering that bit of news would only worsen his current mental state.

“No,” Sirius said, and Willow breathed a sigh of relief. “Dumbledore told us not to tell him, not that we really would anyway; it’s in his best interest he doesn’t know that, at the moment … so you say Voldemort’s trying to get his hands on it?”

“Hands on what?” a voice spoke from the doorway, causing each of the Order members to freeze up.

“Harry!” Molly exclaimed, feigning a smile as she stood to usher him away from the door; he was not supposed to be here.

“Why can’t I be in the Order?” Harry asked suddenly, walking into the dining room instead of leaving as Molly had intended for him to do so.

Silence encased the room, not one person knowing really what to say against his question until, with a thoughtful sigh, Sirius decided to speak up.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t do too much harm –“ he began, instantly rising a reaction from most of the members seated at the table, one of the most notable being that of Willow’s, who was quite vigorously shaking her head at the idea – if Harry had found out about what they were discussing, god knows how he’d take it all – but the most notable reaction most definitely belonged to that of Molly.

“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry,” she spoke harshly. “You haven’t forgotten what we were just discussing not too many seconds ago, have you?”

“Which bit?” Sirius asked as politely as possible, although Willow could tell he was starting to get agitated, for what reason she didn’t know. She thought he of all people would be against Harry joining the Order.

“The bit about not telling Harry –“ she stopped, trying to think of how to say what she needed to say discreetly, to avoid Harry asking questions, “– more than he needs to know.”

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly. But considering he was one of the two that saw Voldemort come back I think he has more right than most to –“

“He’s not a member of the Order, and he won’t be! He’s only fifteen –“

“And Willow’s only fourteen but here she is!” Harry shouted suddenly from his place by the door. At that, Willow’s brows furrowed slightly, and she couldn’t help but cross her arms over her chest. The only reason _she_ was here was because of her current circumstances as a Death Eater. Besides, it’s not like she wanted to be here, not anymore, anyway, considering how stressful it all was.

“Stay out of it, Harry!” Sirius ordered as he stood before turning his attention back to Molly, who was now looking quite red in the face. “He’s dealt with as much as most of us in the Order! Even more than some –“

“No one’s denying what he’s done! But he’s still –“

“He’s not a child!” Sirius shouted, slamming his hands against the table. In the corner of her eye, Willow could see Remus beginning to play with his hands, and Willow was about ready to do the same; she didn’t like all the shouting.

“He’s not an adult either!” Molly retorted, gesturing to Harry. “He’s not James, Sirius!”

“I’m perfectly clear of who he is, Molly,” Sirius said coldly, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m not so sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Harry questioned, sufficiently offended.

“What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him. You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!” Molly explained.

“Yeah, well, so is Willow –“

“The circumstances surrounding Willow’s involvement here are different –“ Remus suddenly tried to butt in before being interrupted by Sirius.

“Meaning I’m an irresponsible father?” the man, now angrier than anyone had ever seen him before, with the exception of Remus, demanded as he walked round the table to get face-to-face with Molly, or as good as considering their considerable difference in height.

“Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore –“

“We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!”

“Arthur!” Molly said, now desperate for someone to side with her. Willow would have offered her support for Molly’s decision, although she did not want to face her father when he was in such a rage. “Arthur, back me up!”

Initially, Arthur did not speak, instead resigning to look away and remove his glasses before wiping them clean and placing them back on his nose. Only after this was done, did he present his opinion on the situation, although was quickly shutdown by his wife again.

“Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters –“ he had begun.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!” she had butted in.

“Personally,” Remus began quietly, looking down at his hands as he continued to feverishly play with them, “I think it better that Harry gets the facts – not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture, from us –“

“Well,” Molly quickly interrupted, not allowing for Remus to finish whatever he had to say, “well, I can see I’m going to be overruled. I’ll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who had got Harry’s best interest at heart –“

“He’s not _your_ son,” Sirius growled quite aggressively, greatly resembling, in that moment, the dog form he took on every now and then.

“He’s as good as,” Molly fired back. “Who else has he got?”

“He’s got me!” Sirius yelled. He was absolutely livid, and as much as Willow had been agreeing with Molly this whole time, what she had said in that moment had taken it too far.

“Yes. The thing is, it’s been rather difficult for you to look after him while you’ve been locked up in Azkaban, hasn’t it?” Molly insulted, and in that split second after those words had left her mouth, Willow saw the anger on Sirius’ face dissipate, instead to be replaced by a glassy-eyed expression, which, again, quickly changed to a solemn, tearful look. If she had blinked, she would have missed it, the tear that began to fall down Sirius’ cheek that he was quick to wipe away. As soon as she had seen such a thing, Willow was up on her feet and over to where Sirius stood, to which she then wrapped his arms around him, albeit quite cautiously in case he did not reciprocate; she needed him to know that he was loved and appreciated by at least _someone_ in the room.

“Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,” Remus spoke sharply, having stopped playing with his hands as soon as he had seen the expression on his best friend’s face. “Sit down, Sirius,” he offered, in a much softer tone of voice, but the man refused to sit, instead allowing for his head to bury itself into his daughter’s shoulder, which caused her to hold him even tighter. He was crying – she could feel it – but it was obvious he did not want anyone to see.

“I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this now –“ Remus then began. He could not continue though, for his son was quick to start speaking his mind.

“Good,” he said strongly, “because I have a lot of things to say. For one, it’s unfair that Willow gets to be here and I can’t –“

“Harry, we already explained –“

“How are the circumstances different?” Harry shouted angrily. “We both saw him come back, and if you’re going to say it’s because she’s a Death Eater, well, here’s a fucking reminder for all of you, it was her choice to join them in the first place!”

“I only did it to protect all of you!” Willow shouted back, letting go of Sirius and turning to face her brother. All pain that had been in her body that morning seemed to suddenly go away, instead being replaced by an indescribable amount of rage. “If I had had the choice I wouldn’t have gone and done it!”

“You did have a choice! You didn’t have to follow him!”

And it was those words that angered Willow more than anything else her brother had said that morning. She had _no_ choice. It was either follow him or have everyone around her killed, and that was one of the last things she wanted.

“Selfish fucking git,” Willow muttered before, restraining herself only slightly, punching her brother in the nose, hard enough for it to hurt and bleed, yet light enough for it not to break. And only after seeing the look of pained disbelief on her brother’s face did she leave the room.

She was left undisturbed in her bedroom for the remainder of the morning, which to her was not surprising, considering the fresh display of the height her almost uncontrollable temper could reach. It wasn’t until around lunchtime when someone entered her room, whoever it was not bothering to knock on the door as before they did, causing Willow, who had just reached a somewhat stable level of neutrality, to become quite angry again.

“What –?” she began harshly, turning to see who it was. She stopped, though, upon seeing the face that stood in front of her. He had been crying, she could see that plain as day, his eyes being considerably bloodshot, and his nose had begun to bruise, although was no longer spilling blood as it had been before. “What?” she repeated, albeit in more reserved tone of voice. She _did_ feel quite bad for having hurt her brother in such a way. Once again, looking back, he hadn’t deserved such a thing necessarily; he was just angry and quite obviously stressed which was not too far off what Willow had been feeling as of later.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised quietly, looking her in the eyes, which was something he was most definitely not accustomed to doing, especially during those moments when she was displaying such negative emotions. “I didn’t mean –“

But he was cut off by Willow pulling him suddenly into a hug, having practically already accepted his apology the moment he’d stepped foot into the room. They were silent for a minute or so, before, all of a sudden, Willow decided, as apology for what she had done to him, she’d slip him _some_ information about what was going on.

“He’s building an army, and not just with wizards,” she informed. “And he’s after something, a weapon of sorts.”

“Weapon?” Harry questioned.

“I can’t say what, I’m not allowed too. You’ll find out soon enough.”


	10. Chapter 10

Usually, Willow would have enjoyed having the ability to head outdoors, out of the house, but today was not one of those days, considering the circumstances of why such a thing was happening.

It was quite early in the morning, and she was cramped together with her brother and Arthur in the telephone box that would take them down underground and into the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore, after the Dementor incident, had managed to secure a hearing for Harry, and the day of which had finally arrived, Willow deciding to come along in case Harry needed a witness to the occasion. Although, with that being said, she doubted the Minister would want to listen to what she had to say, considering she was Harry’s sister; he would likely think that the two had invented the story together when they were suffering a wave of boredom.

“Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order,” Harry said innocently, once again quite suddenly reminding Willow of the fact that her brother had not been raised around wizards.

“We’re not using it to call anyone,” Willow quickly explained. “It’s like when you and Sirius went through the other entrance when you came here to sign the papers last year. You didn’t actually use the toilet, did you?”

Harry shook his head as Arthur dialled the numbers necessary for them to use the entrance.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business,” the voice of a woman then spoke. Willow was no stranger to this, having used this entrance once before when she had gone to sign her and Remus’ adoption papers two and a half years prior.

“Arthur Weasley,” Arthur said, “Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry and Willow-Violet Potter, the former of which having been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing …”

“Thank you,” the woman said. “Visitors, please take your badge and attach it the the front of your robes.”

Not a second later did two square silver badges pop out of the coin chute, of which Willow caught, handing the one with her brother’s name to Harry, to pin to his shirt, while Willow pinned hers to the white long-sleeved shirt she had taken to wearing under her leather jacket.

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium,” the voice continued, before the ground underneath the group shuddered, at which point they began to sink, and Willow couldn’t help but allow for a smile to grace her face as Harry, simply put, looked terrified.

Only a minute passed before the voice spoke again – “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day.” – and the three were let out into the familiar large hall that Willow had been in many times over the years, whether that be with Remus or Lucius, and with a bit of walking, the group of three reached the security desk, where Harry and Willow where searched with what looked to be a long golden rod, after which they were supposed to hand over their wands.

“No,” Willow refused, reflexively holding a hand over the pocket of her jeans that her wand, during the day, called home. Ever since the events that had occurred back in June, Willow had refused to leave her wand out of sight. She knew the process of getting her wand checked wasn’t bad – it was just placing her wand on a set of scales to see what it was made of and how long it had been in use – but for her sake of mind, she could not let her wand go.

“Willow –“ Arthur began.

“Fourteen inches, unicorn hair core, been in use for three years,” Willow said to the security wizard, ignoring Arthur.

“It would have been easier for you to just hand your wand over, considering now you’re looking a bit suspicious, Miss Potter,” the security wizard said.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Willow snapped.

“Eric, just leave her be, she’s been through –“ Arthur began to try and say as the security wizard made his way around the desk, soon getting face-to-face with Willow. He was trying his best to be intimidated, but Willow was not phased.

“Don’t –!“ Willow warned as the wizard tried to reach for her pocket.

“Is there a problem?” quite a strong voice asked, rounding on the group. Willow immediately let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Lucius arrive by her side, the security wizard quickly backing away.

“She’s refusing to hand over her wand, Mr. Malfoy,” the wizard said, his eyes downcast and his voice a slightly higher pitch than what it had been before.

“Willow,” Lucius prompted, looking down slightly at the girl, at which point, very slowly, Willow pulled her wand out of her pocket and handed it over to Lucius. For a moment, Lucius held it up to his face, making sure to examine the rose-carved wand thoroughly, before handing it back to Willow.

“Seems fine to me,” Lucius said to the security wizard, who was now practically cowering behind his desk. “ _Don’t_ pester her again, because if you do, I shall know,” he threatened, before turning to face Arthur. “Good day to you, Mr. Weasley.” And with a curt nod, Lucius left the group of three to themselves once more.

“Right, well,” Arthur said, a little awkwardly once Lucius had disappeared. “We best be off then.” And so they were.

***

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley.”

Willow’s head quite suddenly snapped in the direction where Percy was seated; she hadn’t even noticed he was there when she had entered the familiar courtroom with Harry. It had felt like an eternity since she had last seen him, when in actual fact, it had only been six months, but perhaps it was knowing _why_ she hadn’t seen him that made it feel like it had been so long.

After the news had got out about Harry and Willow having witnessed the murder of Cedric and facing Voldemort, albeit, of course, excluding the point of Willow having become a Death Eater, the Ministry had worked tirelessly in convincing the wizarding world that Voldemort was not back, and that the whole story was just a coverup for what really happened to Cedric; and according to the Ministry, Cedric’s death was an accident caused by direct result of the third task of the Tournament.

Quite unfortunately, Percy, by this point, had worked his way too far up in the Ministry, now being Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, the power of such a thing getting to his head; even after days of trying to convince him, Percy did not believe for a second a word that came out of his parents’ mouth to do with the whole Voldemort situation. Eventually, he’d become so sick of it he deserted them not too far into July.

The moment Willow had caught wind of such behaviour having been exerted by Percy, she was furious. How could he do such a thing?

But it was at that point, as she was sitting in the stands, barely noticing what was going on with her brother’s hearing, when she realised that it was more than likely he was doing this out of fear. It wouldn’t be surprising; Willow had known well enough since her first year that Percy was on the contrary to what most believed, and that was that he was quite insecure on the inside. The only other person Willow knew of that held that inkling of knowledge was Oliver Wood, although that was quite unsurprising to her, as Percy held quite a bit of trust in the man, and it seemed he held a similar amount of trust for Willow, as she came to realise, recalling that first night she had helped him through that breakdown surrounding his girlfriend at the time and how she had been petrified by the Basilisk and all his fears surrounding said situation.

It seemed, that this trust would come to quite the advantage of Willow, as, not even a minute after her realisation, she carefully made her way up to where Percy was sat before sneaking behind the young man, quickly holding onto his shoulder, and apparating them onto the street outside, not far from the telephone box she, Harry and Arthur had entered the Ministry in. She was going to have a talk with him.

It did not take long for Percy to realise, in a sense, that he had been kidnapped, and not even a second after arriving on the street, he made the decision to apparate himself and the now fourteen year old Willow to his recently bought apartment instead, believing that would be a much safer place to be in.

“You don’t believe what they’re saying, do you?” Willow questioned heatedly, as she stood face-to-face with the Weasley, now being the same height as him, a tight hold onto the collar of his dress shirt.

“I do,” he said, yet the tone at which he said it portrayed other feelings.

“Don’t lie to me,” Willow demanded, shoving the man up against the wall by the door. “You know how much it hurts? Not just for me but for everyone?”

Percy did not speak a word, but Willow could see tears welling up in his eyes. It was fear then, that was controlling his recent actions; he would not have felt so guilty about having hurt everyone if it hadn’t been.

“I know you know _he’s_ back,” Willow said, in a much calmer tone of voice, backing away from Percy now, “but in case you aren’t actually convinced –“ with a deep breath, she removed the leather jacket she wore before rolling up the shirt sleeve of her left arm, revealing the scarlet mark that had been branded onto her skin. Percy was quick to hold a hand over his mouth, quite possibly done to prevent himself from screaming, or something of the sort. And as quick as Willow was to show the mark, she had it covered again and was, once more, pressing Percy against the wall.

“If you ever speak a word to _anyone_ about what you’ve just seen, trust me when I say this, I will not hesitate to have you killed,” Willow threatened, her green eyes piercing into Percy’s own. He nodded his head ever-so-slightly, and with that, Willow apparated the two back into the now recently emptied courtroom; it seemed they had arrived too late to hear the verdict. Without speaking another word to one another, the two then left the courtroom, Percy following the Wizengamot, and Willow making her way over to Arthur and Harry, both of which were smiling gleefully – a positive verdict then.

“Where’d you get off to?” Harry asked, as soon as he caught sight of his younger sibling. “You left halfway –“

“There was something I needed to take care of,” Willow simply explained. Her gaze, for a moment, flickered up at Arthur, who was looking quite quizzically at Percy, who had almost disappeared out of view by now, before he looked down, a similar expression on his face, at Willow. It seemed he had seen the two of them leave the courtroom later than the others.

“Later,” Willow spoke quietly to Arthur so that Harry couldn’t hear, and with an understanding nod, Arthur’s expression turned neutral once more as he explained to the two that he would drop them back at Grimmauld Place on his way to his next work assignment.


	11. Chapter 11

He had been refusing to even _look_ at the envelope that had been placed on his bed by Sirius, ever since that morning when it had first got there. He could only guess what was contained inside it, and that guess was not the most positive.

The letter had been sent by the Ministry of Magic; never a good sign, especially for a werewolf such as himself. More than likely, it was merely an update on the rules and regulations surrounding werewolves – he had received many of those letters in the past, informing him of all the things he could and couldn’t do, which ended up mostly being things he couldn’t do, considering the Ministry had barely any tolerance for, what they liked to call, half-breeds – but Remus thought it odd to send such a thing only two days before he was due back at Hogwarts for his third year of teaching.

With a sigh, he began to pace back and forth in his bedroom, hands beginning to flap at intermittent intervals. He knew he shouldn’t be working himself up so much over the letter when he hadn’t even read its contents, nor even laid a hand on the envelope for that matter, but he couldn’t help it. Every time he received a letter from the Ministry, it wasn’t good, and he knew this time would be no different, perhaps even worse under the current circumstances.

“Remus?” a light yet cautious voice spoke timidly from the doorway. Turning slightly, Remus could see Tonks, or rather, Dora, as he had now been given permission to call her – a shortened version of her first name – standing there, leaning against the door frame. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Remus said honestly, pacing faster, the intervals at which his hands flapped beginning to decrease, much to his dismay; his wrists were beginning to hurt, but there was no way for him to stop doing such a thing, considering it was something he had needed to do, ever since he could remember, to keep himself somewhat stable.

“What’s the problem, then?” Dora asked, entering the room carefully and shutting the door behind her, knowing it best to do such a thing. She had learnt from Sirius, recently, of Remus’ ‘different wiring’, as Sirius liked to put it after having witnessed one too many of Remus’ outbursts, or rather, meltdowns as they were more medically known. She had been curious about such a thing ever since she had seen that first one, during breakfast two months prior, although she did not dare ask if there was something different about Remus, feeling it too invasive to do so at the time and when she did finally ask, a few days before, she, of course, asked Sirius, who contentedly obliged in telling her all about Remus’ autism, as the condition was known in the Muggle world.

“The Ministry – they sent a letter. I don’t want to open it because I know –“ the distressed man was now beginning to reach for his hair as he finally took a seat on the bed, albeit, rocking back and forth as he did so, “– I know it won’t be good.”

Quickly, Dora walked over by the bed and sat down beside Remus, picking up the envelope and placing it on her lap as she went. Curiosity getting the better of her, she decided to see who in the Ministry had sent it, and when she did see the name that had been stamped on the back, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Remus was right; this letter would be anything _but_ good.

“Read it,” Remus requested quietly, still too afraid to look at it himself, and at that, Dora carefully tore open the envelope and began to silently read the contents.

**Professor R. J. Lupin,**

**It is with great disappointment that you have been retired from your position as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, by order of the Minister for Magic. This is not negotiable.**

**Signed,**

**Dolores J. Umbridge,**

**Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.**

“What does it say?” Remus asked, looking up to face the woman sitting beside him, the expression on her face flickering quickly from one of great surprise, to one of great fury. This was not good.

“Remus –“ she began in a careful tone, her expression then suddenly softening. She didn’t exactly want to tell him what the letter said; she knew that what it said would send him into a complete meltdown, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel any pain, although, at this rate, such a thing was impossible to achieve. He had been retired from his job, he was no longer going to have the ability to see his children as much as he would have liked, and he would have to find out that news one way or another.

“Just tell me what it says,” Remus pleaded desperately; he just wanted to get whatever was said in that letter said and done with. “Please.”

She didn’t have it in her to actually say what was written on the paper, so instead she handed the letter to him, her eyes downcast as he read which, evident by his behaviour, it did not take too long for him to finish reading.

At first, Remus didn’t really do anything. All he really did was just sit there, as if he were trying to process all that he had just read, but once he had done – once he was able to fully comprehend the severity of the situation he had now been plunged into – Dora’s fears of him being hurt, in any way, shape, or form, were beginning to come alive.

The tears came first, along with an increased rate of rocking as he sat, unknowing what to do. Then, after that, the hands that had reached for his hair only minutes ago were now beginning to grip and pull, and Dora found herself, for the first time, taking over Sirius’ usual occupation of preventing the man from injuring himself physically.

She had observed Sirius many a time, in what he did when it came to keeping Remus stable during these moments, making sure to take in everything; she’d always quite liked Remus ever since the first time she ran into him at the Ministry two and a half years prior, although she was finding now that she liked him in less of a fantastical way and more of a serious way – she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and if she were to do that, she had to know the ins and outs of keeping Remus well.

Carefully, she reached over and ever-so-gently disentangled Remus’ hands from his hair before holding on to them with her own, to prevent him from doing anything else with them. She then decided to move closer to him, just far enough for him to rest his head on her shoulder as he cried, and after that, all that was left was to wait until Remus stopped feeling too bad to speak.

“Fuck,” was the first word he managed to mutter after almost a half hour of silence. He was no longer crying, and he had lifted his head from Dora’s shoulder, but an inkling of pain still waivered in his eyes. “Fuck that woman, fuck this, fuck the Minister –“

“Fuck the Ministry,” Dora said quietly, piping in. “Absolute tosser, she is, that Umbridge woman,” she continued, quite enraged herself.

“It’s my fault,” Remus then said, snapping Dora quickly out of her own rage, and looking at the man beside her with the utmost sympathy. How could he say such a thing?

“Remus –“

“I shouldn’t have accepted the job in the first place – actually – accepting the job was fine, but I should have quit last year like I wanted to –“

“Remus, it wasn’t your fault,” Dora said firmly, squeezing one of his hands slightly. “Realistically speaking, how could any of this have been your fault?”

For once, Remus did not actually have a response to such a question. In part he blamed it upon Dora’s use of the words ‘realistically speaking’, considering he’d usually use the go-to of being a werewolf, although, again, Dora had said ‘realistically speaking’, and technically it was never Remus’ fault in the first place that he had become a werewolf. That fault laid on two other people; his father along with the werewolf that had mauled him, known by the name of Fenrir Greyback.

The other cause of his unresponsiveness to the question, though, was his unwillingness to disappoint Dora in some way. After all, it seemed he had already done such a thing having blamed himself initially for the situation, which, of course, prompted her to ask said question.

“What am I going to do?” Remus instead asked, pretending as though he had not heard Dora’s question. “Better yet, how’s Willow going to handle all of this?”

Dora also did not answer Remus’ question; not for a while at least. What exactly was he going to do? He couldn’t exactly head to the Ministry and beg on his knees for his job back, as much as he would have liked to. And about how Willow would handle all of this, she had no idea either. She needed him to be there after all, of all people, especially when considering what she had just had to suffer through only two months prior.

“What am I going to tell her?” Remus then questioned quietly, finally looking up at Dora, even managing to make a few seconds of eye contact with the woman before his gaze flickered to the wall behind her.

“Just,” Dora began, thinking heavily about what to say next. “Sit down with her,” she ended up saying. “Take her in here, for example, sit her down, sort of like we are now, and talk to her. Tell her honestly what’s happened and that things are going to be a bit different this year and at the end of it all perhaps, maybe, make sure she knows she can still talk to you.”

“But the letter – the implications of it – the Ministry –“

“Not to be crass or anything but I honestly don’t think your daughter gives a single fuck about the Ministry and whether or not they decide to try and run the school. I mean, good god, she hit Voldemort for god’s sake –“

“Still going to bring that up, are we?” Remus interrupted, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Course we are! That’s the coolest thing anyone’s ever done!” Dora exclaimed as though slightly mortified that Remus would dare question her bringing up such a thing for the umpteenth time, before taking a breath and focusing once more. “Point is,” she said, in a much more serious tone, “at the end of the day, I’m sure she’ll be alright. Really, if you think about it, all she needs are those twins and she’ll be fine, or, mostly anyway.”

Remus had practically forgotten about the Weasley twins during this whole ordeal and took a sigh of relief once they were brought up. She was right, Dora, about Willow realistically only needing them to cope throughout the year. Of course, he knew that there would still be a bit of pain, from both ends, more or less on Remus’, about this whole sudden separation, but it had been undoubtedly proven over these last months that as long as Willow had them, notably George, she would be at least somewhat okay.

“Anyway,” Dora then began, switching topics again as she stood up, Remus following thereafter, “I’d come to tell you lunch was ready; probably gone cold now, of course.”

“Right,” Remus said, not entirely knowing what else to say; he could feel his cheeks going red, but he wasn’t sure why, until, he realised, they were still holding hands. Carefully, he removed his hands from Dora’s, yet the redness of his cheeks did not dissipate, so, along with that, he said, “Better to have it cold than to not have anything at all.”

And with a nod of agreement and a polite argument about who should leave the room first full of many repetitions of ‘no, you go first’, the two were on their way downstairs to eat what remained from the lunch that had been previously prepared.


	12. Chapter 12

It was odd to see Diagon Alley as crowded as it was, for Willow, anyway. It was not the fact that witches and wizards were doing their shopping in the heavy rain that confused Willow, rather, it was the fact that these people were having an absolutely merry time when, not even far by, Voldemort was on the prowl with his newly re-instated Death Eater gang, of which Willow was reminded once more that she was, unfortunately, plagued with being a part of.

“Strange, really, isn’t it?” Fred observed as he, his twin and Willow began entering the more deserted streets of the little shopping village. “Everyone walking around as if nothing’s going on at the moment.”

“Can’t blame them, really,” Willow stated, taking a hold of one of Fred’s hands; they still hadn’t talked very much, although there was a lot less tensity in the air between them over the last days, likely due to the fact that, in twenty-four hours, they would be on the Hogwarts Express for Willow’s fourth, and the the twins’ final year at Hogwarts. “Ministry’s lead by an absolute dickhead and the people working there aren’t much better, with the exception of the one’s in the Order, of course. Anyway, where’s the building?” Willow asked. The twins had recently purchased a building for the three’s business venture and had managed to convince Remus to take Willow out for the morning; this proved difficult considering it was a Thursday, and not a Sunday, but he was eventually won over by the multiple promises that they would keep Willow safe and wouldn’t go anywhere far. Of course, he had not known that they were actually smuggling Willow to Diagon Alley.

“Right here,” George smiled proudly, crossing his arms as they stopped in front of what appeared to be a terribly dilapidated, four-storey building. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s –“ Willow began hesitantly as they walked inside.

It was terrible, there was no other way to say it. Half of the stairs leading up to the second floor were completely missing, and Willow wasn’t even sure that there were actually stairs leading up to the third and fourth floors. The wood floorboards underneath them creaked under their weight, and mould was beginning to grow in some of the particularly damp spots. The place was caked in dust, and Willow wouldn’t be surprised if the building had been abandoned for a hundred years. Not to mention the smell was absolutely vile.

“Oh, now, come on, it isn’t _that_ bad,” Fred said optimistically as he shut the door behind them, the window beside it smashing to bits as he did. “I’ll admit, it does need a bit of work –“

“You think?” Willow exclaimed, gesturing wildly as she turned to face the twins, who were still stood by the door. “How much did we spend on this?”

“All of Harry’s Tournament winnings,” George muttered quietly under his breath, as he knew this piece of information would surely rile Willow up. “But, it’s alright because we’ve still got enough profit coming in to help fix this place up whilst also continuing to create the items that need selling and –“

“When do you plan on opening the place?”

“Your birthday.”

“But we’ll be at –“ Willow began to point out, before stopping in her tracks. She was going to say they would be at school, unless –

“You’re leaving?” she questioned, heart dropping at the realisation and tears quickly beginning to form in her eyes. Of course, she knew that this was their last year at school, and either way they wouldn’t be at school come the following September, but for some reason the thought of losing the two of them prior to when she had expected was ripping her to pieces on the inside.

“We would have told you sooner –“ Fred began, feeling guilty as he pulled his girlfriend in for their first true hug in, well, months.

“– you’ve just been so upset and stressed is all,” George continued, running a hand over the hair that was quickly returning on Willow’s head, feeling equally, if not more guilty than Fred. “We didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

“I guess it’ll be worth it in the end,” Willow then said quietly, trying her best to find a positive side to all this. “When are you –“

“April,” George cut in before Willow could finish asking her question. “It should give us enough time to fix this place up before then.”

***

Barely an hour later and the three were back inside their bedrooms in Grimmauld Place, performing some very hasty last minute packing for the upcoming school year. The three of them hadn’t spoken much since the twins had broken the news to Willow that they would be leaving Hogwarts before the year was up.

“All for a good cause, I suppose,” Willow reminded herself out loud with a sigh as she began clearing out the bottom drawer of her bedside table. She removed her books she had received for her birthday and placed them in her trunk, along with some of the drawings she had done over the years of her family and friends – she had always enjoyed having those around for as long as she could remember – and then she stopped. Buried underneath all the books and the sketches were a pile of photographs, neatly bound by a bit of twine.

She sat herself on the floor and picked up the pile – she hadn’t looked at them in a while, more or less having just thrown them in the drawer when she’d initially been moved into Grimmauld Place. She smiled as she looked through them; there were pictures of her parents and Sirius and Remus, there were pictures of them along with Harry and herself, not long after she was born, all standing together as a family. She laughed seeing the picture of her and Draco, when they were only two and three, having just painted the walls of one of the halls in the Manor, some very guilty looks present on their faces.

She continued to either laugh or smile as she looked through all the pictures of her growing up over the years with her different families, although she did cringe for a brief moment seeing the picture taken of her just after breakfast the morning of her first day at Hogwarts. She’d forgotten how small she once looked.

Standing once more, she put the images in her trunk, but bent over upon realising that one had slipped from the pack. Standing up again, she looked at the date – _January 27 th 1993 _– before flipping the photograph around to see the image, and at that, her smile faded and she almost felt as though she’d been stabbed in the heart.

It felt almost surreal, seeing the two together, only a few months after they had met. The two of them were on the Quidditch Pitch, typical of where they were usually found; she remembered Colin Creevey, one of the Gryffindors in her year, running up to her after classes ended for the day and handing her the picture. He had said that he just had to take the picture during the break between classes, because the two of them had been so happy and he had never seen a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff get on so well.

And all of a sudden she felt herself falling to the floor again in a heap and sobbing uncontrollably, the unfortunate reminder that she would have none of this when she went back tomorrow. No more Quidditch practices or talks by the pitch; no more jokes or smiles or laughs between the two and definitely no more playful fighting over insignificant things. More importantly, there would be no more of him, and that hurt Willow to the point where she felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

In amidst her mourning, she hadn’t realised the sudden presence of her other best friends, both of which had rushed upstairs at the mere sound of her crying. On either side of her they then sat, not speaking a word, both holding a hand each in theirs’, and after a half hour, the three were back on their feet, all helping one another finish what remained of Willow’s thus far less-than-fruitful attempts at packing up for Hogwarts.

***

The three of them awoke with a sudden jolt to the sound of the front door slamming quite harshly downstairs. Willow had ended up giving up packing soon after the twins started helping; having been too exhausted by the grief she was suffering, she ended up falling asleep on the armchair, curled up in a ball trying to hide herself away from the world, meanwhile the twins continued to pack Willow’s things for her, before they too, exhausted, collapsed onto her bed, falling asleep themselves.

“What time is it?” Willow asked tiredly with a yawn, uncurling herself from the tight ball she was in and stretching to try and alleviate the newfound pain in some of her muscles from having slept in such a severe position. She wished she would have been able to keep sleeping; the few hours or so she had just slept had been the best she had had in months, and at least if she was still sleeping, she wouldn’t be feeling that lingering grief that she was feeling again.

“Five past six,” George replied with a matching yawn, sitting up on the bed before pulling Fred up with him, who was determined to keep sleeping. “Mum wants us,” he then observed, hearing Molly shouting to them from downstairs. “Come on, you two.”

Five tired minutes later and the three were down in the basement kitchen where all the Weasleys – with the exception of Charlie and Emma – along with Harry, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Kingsley and Moody were all stood in various places in the room.

“That’s right,” Willow said, remembering the commotion that had woken her up that morning as she split from Fred and George to make her way over to Harry, Ron and Hermione, “the two of you are Prefects now.”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, quickly pulling her Prefect badge from her pocket and showing it to Willow; Ron was not as enthusiastic about such a development, but showed his badge to Willow too, nonetheless.

“Suppose I better watch my back this year then,” Willow said, an attempted tease before turning her attention to her brother, who had returned from grabbing a Butterbeer looking quite solemn. “You alright?” she asked as Ron and Hermione began conversing with Tonks.

“Fine,” Harry lied, albeit not at a well-enough level for his sister to believe it.

“You’re not,” Willow stated, dragging Harry away to a secluded corner. “Why are you so jealous of them getting a badge?”

“I dunno,” Harry said. He did actually know why, he just didn’t have any words to articulate it exactly, although, in the end, that didn’t seem to matter as Willow managed to explain it perfectly and simultaneously make him feel a right bit better about not having a Prefect badge.

“Mum and Dad never got badges, neither did Sirius. Remus did, but he never used it, and it’s a shit job anyway, honestly. I mean, look at what happened to Percy,” Willow said matter-of-factly. “Also Draco’s likely gotten away with getting a badge too so –“

“Yeah, alright,” Harry cut off, not entirely wanting to hear about Draco; even after all the weeks had passed he still felt horrible for what he’d done, and even worse remembering that he would have to see him tomorrow. “Thanks.”

With a nod, Willow left Harry to his own vices again before soon exiting the basement kitchen up the stairs; all this talk about Prefects was causing Willow to think of Cedric again. He had been a Prefect, and he was well in the running to be Head Boy this year. A flicker of a smile found its way onto Willow’s face at the thought of what Cedric would have done if he’d been named Head Boy. Quite likely, he would have wondered how that could ever have happened, he would likely have even tried to politely refuse the position, being too nice to take it and instead try to offer it to someone else.

She was already on the second floor, tears almost begging to leave her eyes, when she heard the muffled sounds of someone in distress. Figuring helping someone would distract her from her thoughts for at least a bit of time, Willow hurried downstairs to the drawing room, where the noises were coming from, and swung the door open.

Against the wall, in the darkness, Willow could see someone cowering, a wand in their hand and their body shaking with sobs. She was quick to identify the person as Molly, a fact soon confirmed when she looked across to see the deceased body of Ron – there was a Boggart in the room, and at that, Willow wished she hadn’t entered the room; the last time she’d faced a Boggart was that Defence Against the Dark Arts class back in her second year, and after having seen what form her Boggart took, she had refused to face one since.

“Riddikulus!” Molly sobbed, her wand pointed at the Boggart; but she was not strong enough to repel it, as instead of leaving, it turned into the body of Bill. Trying again and again, Molly kept shouting the spell, but this only caused the Boggart to keep changing from Bill to Arthur to the twins – at this, Willow covered her mouth with her hands to hold back a sob; she knew they weren’t real but it looked convincing enough – then they turned into Percy and at last the Boggart turned into Harry. Then, all of a sudden, having sensed the despair Willow was very quickly beginning to feel, the Boggart turned into –

“What’s going on?” Remus asked, bursting into the room, followed closely by Sirius and Moody. He was quick to observe the scene; Molly cowered by the wall, Willow closer to the door, curled in a ball and rocking back and forth whilst trembling, and his own deceased body laid askew on the floor. Quickly and firmly he said the spell that would rid the Boggart before picking his daughter up off the ground and holding her close to him.

“It’s alright, dear, it was just a Boggart,” he whispered soothingly, running a hand over the back of Willow’s head; he had quickly realised again how strange it was, Willow not having so much hair, that is. At least it was growing back.

“I see them dead all the time!” Molly sobbed, Willow turning her head very slightly to see the woman clinging desperately to Sirius as the, now quite sombre, man patted her on the back. “I’m just so worried. Half the family’s in the Order, it’ll be a miracle if we all come through this – and Percy’s not talking to us. What if something dreadful happens and we had never made up? And what’s going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny?”

“Molly, that’s enough,” Remus said firmly; he didn’t want Willow to be in any more distress, all this talk about death and all – he had already heard downstairs from George that she’d had another breakdown earlier in the day. “This isn’t like last time. The Order is better prepared, we’ve got a head start, we know what Voldemort’s up to. Look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time. You weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand – last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters, and they were picking us off one by one.”

“Don’t worry about Percy,” Sirius then said. “He’ll come round. It’s a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them, but I’m not sure _I’ll_ be accepting their apology.”

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” Willow looked up to see Remus smiling slightly as he spoke, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

This caused Molly to smile as she finally let go of Sirius, wiping her eyes on the handkerchief she carried with her. She muttered something, but Willow did not hear, because as soon as Molly was alright, Remus was moving her upstairs to his bedroom, the smile having now been replaced by a solemn expression. There was something wrong, Willow could tell, and as soon as Remus sat her down on the bed, to tell her something quite serious, the tears that had ceased only seconds before came pouring out once more.

“Willow, I’ve been retired.”


	13. Chapter 13

Stepping onto the Hogwarts Express the following morning was perhaps one of the most excruciating things Willow had ever had to do. She would not be greeting Cedric at the Hufflepuff table during the feast as she usually did – she would not see him at all, for that matter – and she would not be able to see her father smiling at her from the high table; she would not be able to spend time with him and talk to him and help him mark the students’ work. Her only comfort, as she walked down through the train amidst a new wave of murmurs and whispers – she did look very different after all in comparison to how she had in June – was the presence of Fred and George, although even then she did not sit with them on the train, deciding instead to keep her brother company as Ron and Hermione were expected in the Prefect’s compartment.

Together the Potter siblings followed Ginny into the very last compartment of the train, where, already seated was Luna, someone Willow hadn’t spoken to in some time, although was happy to see, nonetheless. The three were about to enter the compartment, where Luna sat reading her magazine when, all of a sudden, Neville also decided to join the group that had formed, someone who neither Willow nor Harry were as happy to see, their last major interaction between them being November of the previous year when Neville had broken up with Willow in a less-than-acceptable way. It was admittedly quite awkward from that point on, as the four slid into the compartment; Willow almost wished she had left then and there to go back and find the twins.

“Had a good summer, Luna?” Ginny quickly asked, sensing the tension filling the air, all of the group, with the exception of Willow, then soon conversing together as if they were all good friends. Instead, as they all talked, Willow took to staring out the window, watching as they passed through all the little towns and rolling hills of the English countryside. Soon enough she felt her eyelids beginning to grow heavy; she hadn’t slept at all the night before, her grief not only for Cedric but for the lack of her father at Hogwarts being too much.

She awoke an hour or so later upon hearing the compartment door slam open. Suddenly alert, she lifted her head from the window and turned to see Draco standing in the doorway. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were red and almost bloodshot, and his eyebrows were furrowed greatly, his breathing heavy; Willow had not ever seen him so angry in her life, and it hurt her having to know that her own brother was the cause behind all of this.

“Draco –“ Harry began quite hopelessly, standing from his seat. Willow quickly noticed that Hermione and Ron were seated in the compartment now too as she stood up herself; she knew that whatever was to happen it would not be pretty, and she would likely have to intervene.

“Don’t – you – dare,” Draco snarled dangerously, harshly shoving Harry back into his seat as he entered the compartment; it was quite obvious, that at this moment, Draco did not have a care for the fact that he and Harry were not alone, or perhaps, maybe he did; Willow wouldn’t be surprised if Draco had decided to head in the direction of public humiliation for Harry, in response for what he had done. “It hurt, did it? When you sent it?”

“Draco, I didn’t mean –“ But Draco was not willing to listen to what Harry might have had to say; he had hurt him too deeply for that now.

“Oh, so what? It was all an accident, was it? Your hand slipped, is that what it is?” Draco patronised. “Fuck you,” he spat, and at that, Willow took Draco from the compartment; she at least wanted to wait for him to get a bit of his anger out of his system before stealing him from the situation, knowing, ultimately, it would make him feel at least a little better.

“I hate him!” Draco shouted as soon as the two found themselves in an empty compartment, tears finally starting to fall from his eyes.

“As you should,” Willow said, charming the door to lock it and pulling down the blinds so that no one could peer inside.

“No,” Draco said, sitting down, his head falling into his hands. “I shouldn’t. I’ve been thinking – I would have done the same thing –“

“So what?” Willow questioned, sitting down beside Draco, the latter looking up painfully at Willow as she uttered those words. “Just because you would have done the same thing doesn’t mean you can’t hate him. He hurt you, deeply, and –“

“I wish he hadn’t.”

“So do I,” Willow admitted with a sigh. “You don’t want to hate him because you still love him, don’t you?”

Slowly, Draco nodded before putting his head back into his hands.

“It’s okay to do both, you know?” Willow then said. “I would know, I do it all the time.”

At that, Draco emitted a small noise – an almost laugh at what Willow had said – before going silent once more, then resting his head on Willow’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” Willow said comfortingly, hand reaching up to stroke Draco’s hair. “Just give it a bit of time, you’ll see.”

***

As she did at the start of each year, Willow sat beside Draco at the Slytherin table, the both of them mirroring each other greatly on this night as neither of the two ate dinner, instead resting their heads on the table and both trembling slightly as they sobbed quietly although for completely different reasons – Draco crying over his lost love and Willow crying because suddenly Cedric’s death had become much realer, if that was even possible; she had seen the Thestrals pulling the carriages up to the castle, creatures only visible to those that have witnessed death, but, much more painfully, she did not see Cedric’s bright, smiling face sitting at the Hufflepuff table, instead replaced by the frowning faces of the whole house, with the exception of the new first-years, who, sadly, never got the chance to see Cedric.

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast,” Dumbledore said once the noise in the Great Hall had died down. Willow, quickly wiping away any stray tears, finally lifted her head, focusing as much attention as she could on the headmaster in an attempt to avoid bursting into tears again, “I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year –“ Willow looked down for a moment having been painfully reminded once more that her father was _not_ here, “– We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

For a second, Willow looked to the spot at the end of the high table, where her father once sat, to see this new professor. She looked vaguely familiar, much like the name, but aside from that Willow did not think much of the woman dressed head-to-toe in pink, although her neutral opinion did lower once the woman stood up and made her way over to Dumbledore, where she then began to speak. _How very unprofessional,_ Willow thought with a sigh.

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome,” she said, her voice high-pitched and airy and the smile on her face quite obviously faked. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll all be very good friends!”

“Good god, we’re not children,” Draco muttered under his breath, finally lifting his head up from the table, causing Willow to smirk slightly.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

“What the bloody hell is she on about?” Willow questioned quietly, confused as she turned to look at Draco; the boy did nothing but shrug being just as confused as she and apparently the rest of the student body were. The Umbridge woman continued for at least another minute or so about teaching and tradition and how some practices ‘ought to be prohibited’, until, finally, she sat back down and Dumbledore took over once more to discuss Quidditch before sending everyone off to bed.

However, Willow did not go to bed, she did not even set foot on the path that lead to the dungeons. Instead, in amidst all the commotion of confused first-years in the Entrance Hall, trying to follow their assigned Prefects to their house common rooms, Willow snuck outside, desperate to be alone and away from everyone inside to have some form of quiet; she needed to think, maybe have a smoke, something that had manifested from a once a week thing to a once a day thing, and perhaps cry again – whatever she felt, really.

She walked down towards the lake first, sitting under the beech tree as she popped a newly-lit cigarette into her mouth. She felt quite guilty; she had promised not to make this smoking thing a habit, and yet here she was doing just that, potentially damaging herself further, although at the same time, it felt good to her, especially now, the simple act making her feel significantly better than she had been all day.

She stayed seated by the lake for a half hour, before standing up, disposing of her cigarette, and making her way into the forest. She walked for a few minutes, deeper and deeper, only the light of her wand guiding her way, before stopping by the stream, assuring that the coast was clear and stripping off her clothes, then entering the flowing body of water.

She sighed contentedly as the cool water touched her body, bringing her to a point of almost complete relaxation for the first time in weeks. Only almost though; she did not allow herself to get too comfortable, knowing that, at any moment, someone could potentially find her in such a vulnerable position. For a second though, her mind was still of all thought as the water rushed over her, until she decided to put her head under the water which almost immediately reminded her of the second task. It was then when her mind began to race once more, thinking about all that had happened – thinking about Cedric.

And it was then when she also decided to do something that would most definitely make her appear absolutely out of her mind, although she had heard from her fathers – even seen from them – that doing such a thing would make her feel better to some degree.

“Hello, Cedric,” she whispered into the air, feeling absolutely stupid yet, at the same time, a little bit more at peace. “A lot of things have changed since, well –“ She closed her eyes and pictured herself and the older Hufflepuff boy sitting together in the Quidditch Stands, talking. “Anyway, I was marked, and the Order of the Phoenix was reinstated. George knows I love him, and I know he loves me just as much, maybe even more, but I’m still with Fred for now.

“Harry and Draco broke up, but Harry regrets it, and Dad’s got a thing for Sirius’ cousin, and she’s got a thing for him, but I don’t think they know that yet. Speaking of Dad, the Ministry retired him from teaching and he’s been replaced with this toad of a woman who’s all dressed in pink –“ Willow could see Cedric’s smiling face crack into a laugh, and a smile dawned on her own face at that. “She thinks we’re all children too, and, I mean, maybe _some_ of us are, but I’m definitely not.

“Anyway, the twins are also leaving in April, they aren’t sure of the exact date yet though. The three of us have been working on a business these last two years, you see. I probably should have told you, but I wanted to keep it a surprise. We’re making a joke shop, calling it Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and we’re hoping we’ll be able to get more shops, if the one in Diagon Alley makes good money.”

She talked for a few minutes more, mostly explaining how much she missed him, and how much she wished he was still here, how much she needed him. And then, she said goodbye, and it seemed that this simple act made her feel all the more better. It felt as though she had some sort of closure; she had never been able to say a proper goodbye to her best friend, and this, for the most part served as such.

It was almost midnight by the time she got into bed, and as soon as such a thing had happened, her eyes shut tight and she drifted off into a deep slumber; for the first time in what seemed to be forever, she finally had an undisturbed sleep, and by morning she was fully rested, feeling better than she had all summer, completely ready for the day ahead.


	14. Chapter 14

Whatever window of peace Willow had experienced over the weekend had quickly dissipated upon breakfast of the Monday morning that followed. She scoffed as soon as she entered the Great Hall, seeing the newest addition to the teaching staff, sitting in her father’s spot, dressed in her bright pink robes and laughing shrilly at something Professor McGonagall had said who, feeling a similar amount of displeasure as Willow, turned her head away from the woman for a moment to roll her eyes before turning back again.

“Shame,” Harry said as soon as Willow took a seat beside him at the Gryffindor table, something that was quickly noticed by the new professor, evident by that fact that a few emeralds in the Slytherin hourglass quickly shot up.

“What?” Willow asked, ignoring the loss of points although making a mental note to give the professor back a bit of her own medicine at some later point in time.

“Last period on the timetable,” Harry muttered, handing his timetable over to Willow; she hadn’t looked at her own as of yet, not that it really mattered at the end of the day – the two shared every class with one another but one.

“That really is a shame,” Willow agreed, seeing Defence Against the Dark Arts labelled on the spot Harry had told her to look.

“Especially considering it isn’t Remus,” Harry said sadly. He, too, was beginning to suffer with the lack of one of his fathers’ constant presence. “Why couldn’t he be here, anyway?”

“Ministry retired him,” Willow sighed, “and decided to replace him with this pink monstrosity. I talked about it with Hermione yesterday; we think the Ministry’s –“

“Trying to take over Hogwarts?” Harry suggested, causing Willow to nod. “Yeah,” he said, “I talked about it with her and Ron, too. Why is that?”

“I can’t be too sure,” Willow said, lying through her teeth. She did, in fact, know why the Ministry was working its way into Hogwarts; the Minister was under the impression Dumbledore was creating an army of some sorts – just another delusion to tie in with the alleged lies of Voldemort’s return. “It’s got something to do with Fudge and Dumbledore, though, I think,” Willow then said before deciding to start eating what minimal breakfast she had gathered for herself.

Classes couldn’t have gone any quicker that day, and for once she had wished they had gone slower, because at least then she wouldn’t have had to be sat, beside her brother, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, as soon as she was.

Although, with that being said, she was getting quite the kick out of annoying the Ministry-appointed professor; the woman had scowled upon seeing Willow sitting at her desk so nonchalantly, legs rested on the table as she rocked back in her chair, and not many minutes later did she scoff when Willow decided to correct her on the class’ learnt abilities, having decided to inform her that the lot of them were far above O.W.L. standard, of which they would be taking this year.

Not long later, Willow was smiling as Hermione, too, decided to speak, quite wisely questioning the woman’s practices; they were to be learning simply by textbook, something quite evidently useless in a time when Voldemort was collecting followers again to assist in his venture for world domination.

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked, her voice sounding sickly sweet, yet a little louder than what it had been for the first minutes of the ‘lesson’; she and Hermione had been going back and forth for a bit now, and it was obvious that Umbridge was beginning to lose her patience, and fast.

“No, but –“ Hermione began to answer, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“Well, then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have decided our new program of study. You will be learning defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –“

“What use is that?” Harry spoke suddenly and quite loudly for that matter. Willow almost jumped having heard him speak; he was not usually one to speak against an authoritative figure – that was Willow’s job, more or less – although it seemed the woman had managed to anger him enough to cause him to experience such an increase of nerve. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a –“

“Hand, Mr. Potter –“ Umbridge started, before being interrupted by Dean.

“If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free –“

“I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” Umbridge spoke loudly, choosing to ignore Dean, a feigned sweet smile growing on her face again, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

It didn’t take Willow, nor Harry, barely a millisecond to know who Umbridge was talking about when she uttered the words ‘dangerous half-breeds’, and the two of them were quick to fly into an uncontrollable rage as they, along with a few other members of the class, came to the defence of their father.

“He’s never been dangerous!” Harry shouted angrily amidst the murmur of the class, standing from his seat with a huff.

“And how dare you call him that?” Willow shouted at a similar calibre, also rising quickly from her seat. “That’s our father –!“

“And I can see he is plainly not fit to be in such a position,” Umbridge interrupted, also rising from her chair in an attempt to display some sort of dominance, albeit such a thing did not work, considering both of the Potter siblings were over a foot taller than the woman. “The utter lack of respect being shown at the moment –“

“Do you have children?” Willow questioned quickly before Umbridge had a chance to finish her sentence.

“Of course not –“

“Then you have no right to speak about the way we’ve been raised,” Willow said, leaving her desk and walking up to the front; she soon found herself standing beside the woman, absolutely towering over her. “And for the record,” she then continued, “we’ve been raised perfectly well –“ she then pushed the woman harshly back into her chair, much to the woman’s surprise. “– Don’t you dare say another word against my father.”

“Miss Potter –“ Umbridge then began, quickly regaining composure as Willow walked towards the door.

“Fuck off,” Willow growled, holding her middle finger up to the teacher before promptly leaving the classroom, too angered to bother correcting what she had called her. She walked, arms crossed, letting her feet take her where they wanted to go, which seemed to end up being the Entrance Hall, then the Hogwarts grounds, then down to the beech tree by the lake, where she proceeded to sit, curl herself up into a ball, and cry.

She was there for what seemed like hours to her, curled in her little ball, crying about how much she hated the woman, how much she now hated Defence Against the Dark Arts, how she no longer felt safe, how she missed Remus and Sirius, but especially Remus. She only stopped, quietening herself out of fear, when she heard the sound of footsteps walking through the grass towards her.

“Go away,” Willow ordered quietly as the person sat down beside her. For a moment she was afraid to say the words, fearing that she would have to face Umbridge again, although she realised the woman would likely refuse to go near her again, for the afternoon at least, so it had to be someone she was close with then.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, a neutral tone to her voice as Willow looked up in surprise; she hadn’t expected to see her.

“Professor, I didn’t mean –“ she began to apologise quickly, a hand held up to her mouth.

“It’s alright,” Professor McGonagall assured with a sigh. “Now, may I inquire what you’re upset about?”

“You’re not punishing me?” Willow questioned in disbelief. “For what I did to –“

“No,” Professor McGonagall said. “Perhaps you could have handled the situation better, I will admit, but you’re not in the clearest of mindsets at the moment, are you?”

Willow shook her head in agreement. She most definitely _wasn’t_ in the clearest of mindsets, for if she was, she likely wouldn’t have escalated the situation to anything physical; she would have stuck to her shouting, or if push came to shove, she would have just left and run off somewhere like she had now.

“You know, I was married once,” Professor McGonagall then said, with a sigh, out of the blue. Willow could have sworn she saw tears developing in her Professor’s eyes, although they were quick to disappear as she continued to speak. “His name was Elphinstone. We met not long after I’d left Hogwarts, when I was working at the Ministry,” she continued. “We were married the year after you were born but, unfortunately, he died three years later. Venomous Tentacular bite. I began to live here after that.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Willow asked in the politest way she could; it wasn’t that she didn’t hold great sympathy for her Professor, because she did, especially after hearing what she had heard, it was just that she felt her question likely came off as a bit, well, rude.

“Because I need you to know that things will be better for you, whether that has to deal with Cedric or how you miss your fathers at the moment,” Professor McGonagall explained, a kind smile on her face as she looked over at the girl, who was now sitting with her legs crossed, turned in the direction of her Professor. “I see a lot of myself in you, Willow, ever since you set foot in this castle. After he passed away, I fell down quite a dark path, and out of all people I wouldn’t want to see you go the same way.”

“I’m scared,” Willow admitted quietly. “Of me,” she continued as tears began to fall down her face again, and as much as she tried to stop them, they wouldn’t, and very soon she found herself sobbing uncontrollably and trembling like a leaf in the wind. It was then that Professor McGonagall completely abandoned the rules of her occupation; seeing the child so distraught, she moved a little closer and pulled her into a comforting hold. The affect was almost instantaneous, Willow’s trembling ceasing to exist, her sobs becoming quieter and her breathing coming back to an even pace. At that point, Willow wrapped her own arms around the Professor; she hadn’t been hugged like this in a while – as though the gesture was done by a mother. The last time she had been was by Narcissa, the day before she’d gone to Hogwarts for the first time; she had been all worried and sad about not being able to see her and Lucius until December, although, of course, she didn’t actually end up seeing them until the following year, unbeknownst to her at the time.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?” Professor McGonagall inquired suddenly, snapping Willow swiftly from her thoughts and reminding her where she was – under the beech tree, by the lake, being held by her Transfiguration professor.

“I don’t know,” Willow replied honestly, the two finally letting go of one another. “Married maybe, to George if all things go well. Maybe a kid or two, I’m not sure.”

“There,” Professor McGonagall said.

“What?” Willow questioned, confused.

“Well, you see, if someone would have asked me that question ten years ago I would have likely answered with the word ‘dead’; I had no more dreams, no more aspirations. If it hadn’t been for some of the other professors here I would have likely allowed myself to be consumed by the darkness inside me – but there’s a silver lining for you.

“You said before that you’re scared of yourself, of how you’re feeling I would assume – that is a lot of new emotions for someone as young as you to have to experience. I want you to remember this conversation if you ever feel that way again, ask yourself that question and if, one day, you don’t have an answer for it, come and see me and I’ll try to help you find it again, alright?”

Willow nodded, thinking about all that her Professor had said before smiling and, with great appreciation saying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Professor McGonagall nodded with a smile. “Now, I think it’s a good time to head back up to the castle. We wouldn’t want to miss dinner, would we?”


End file.
